


The Boys Who Lived

by SharaLunison



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Multi, Original Character(s), Slash, Threesome - F/M/M, Twincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-15
Updated: 2013-05-30
Packaged: 2017-10-20 11:08:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 39
Words: 152,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/212117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SharaLunison/pseuds/SharaLunison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the Potter twins are attacked by Voldemort, a lot more happens than the Dark Lord's defeat.  When Harry and Henry return to the wizarding world and Voldemort is resurrected, they will have to choose between the dark and the light--or create their own side in the brewing war.  Slash, twincest, rated M for later chapters. COMPLETE</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Boys Who Lived

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaim Her: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
> 
> A/N: For new readers—this story will cover several years before Voldemort actually returns. Also, I will tell you now that this is a rough draft—I am writing as I get ideas and I will hopefully go back to edit this when it is completely finished. I am also a PLOT DRIVEN writer, which means my characterization is often very weak. Please forgive me, as this is something I do better with fixing during revision. Thanks! ~Shara

**Chapter One: The Boys Who Lived**

“Step aside you silly girl!” Lord Voldemort brandished his wand at the Potter matriarch as he moved further into the nursery.

“No! Not my sons! Take me!” Lily stood protectively in front of the crib where Harry and Henry were laying.

“So be it,” Voldemort muttered. “ _Avada Kedavra_!” A flash of green light lit the room, ending the whimpering and screaming of the mudblood now lying dead on the floor.

The dark lord moved next to the crib, sneering at the two boys lying side-by-side inside. They peered up at him with identical green eyes, not a single trace of fear on either face. Voldemort frowned at them. Fear was how he ruled his followers. Fear allowed him to grip the world in an iron fist. These children truly must die, before they could grow into their powers and become a threat to him.

He raised his wand, summoning all of his strength. The tip glowed green for a moment and he shouted, “ _Avada Kedavra_!” The boys looked startled for a single moment, and then the curse was rebounded from their faces, striking back at the dark lord and reducing him to mist within seconds. The force of the explosion rocked the house and what was left of the structure collapsed in on itself, miraculously missing the crib in the nursery.

When Sirius Black arrived moments later, he screamed in pain and rage at the broken building, charging his way inside to see if his friends, his family, were still alive. He encountered James’ body just inside the front door, no wand in sight. Fearing the worst, he crashed his way up the stairs, ripping up his right leg twice when the steps fell out from beneath him. Finally he reached the nursery and Lily’s body lying prone on the floor. But a crying was coming from the crib and he hurried over, hoping against hope that his godsons were still alive.

There in the bottom of the crib were those two perfect faces. Lily’s eyes and James’ messy black hair. On opposite cheeks two raw and red lightning bolt shaped scars stood out on the pale skin. Sirius sobbed, wondering what had happened to them as he scooped them up and carried them out of the rubble of the house. Outside he found the Hogwarts gamekeeper, Hagrid, waiting for him and looking at the house in shock and horror.

“Sirius? Wha’ happened?” Hagrid cried, reaching out and plucking one of the twins from his arms.

Sirius handed him the other twin, Henry he thought, and moved out into the street with murder on his mind. “Take my bike and take them to Dumbledore. The Potters are dead. They’ll need someone to take care of them now their parents are gone.”

“Lily and James? Dead?” Hagrid was distracted as he looked at the orphaned babies in his arms, great wet tears plopping down onto Harry as they dripped from his beard. A pop sounded in the street ahead and he realized that Sirius had disapparated. “But what about Sirius?” he asked the twins, “He’s your godfather, it ought ter be him what takes care of you from now on.”

Sighing, Hagrid gently placed the boys in the side car of Sirius’ motorbike and climbed aboard the broad machine. He had just turned the engine and was preparing to fly back to Hogwarts when an owl fluttered down from the sky with a note clutched fiercely in her beak.

“What’s this now?” the half giant muttered to himself. He opened the note and read:

 _Hagrid:_

 _It is of the utmost importance that you bring the twins to Number Four, Privet Drive in Surrey. I fear a great calamity has occurred this night. I will meet you there in a few hours time. Even with Sirius’ bike, it will take quite some time to get there._

 _I bid you well!  
Albus Dumbledore  
Headmaster, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

Wiping the tears from his beard, Hagrid stuffed the note into one of the many pockets in his moleskin coat and pointed the bike south. No one noticed when the bike took to the air to disappear into the heavy clouds blanketing the sky that Halloween night.

-o-0-o-

Minerva McGonagall twitched her tail impatiently as she adjusted her position on the cold and hard brick wall that had been her perch all evening. Albus had told her to meet him there, something to do with the fate of the Potter boys and “their only living relatives”. If the Dursleys were the twins’ only living relatives, then she was determined that she would make a bid for the boys herself! After a full evening of watching them, she had come to the conclusion that they were the worst sort of people to be raising children. Just the way they treated their own one-year-old son was sickening! The idea of Harry and Henry Potter being spoiled to the point of rottenness was a horrible thought. She didn’t think she could look Lily in the eye on the other side if she let it happen.

A flicker of light down the way caught her eyes and she peered sideways around the hydrangea bush to see a second flicker wing its way out of a lamppost and disappear somewhere near the ground further up the road. All of the lights on the road followed this strange behavior until Privet Drive was cloaked in darkness so deep only her feline senses could pierce it. The source of this strangeness approached, his long white hair and beard tucked neatly into the belt holding his sky blue robes snug around his waist.

The elderly man spotted her almost immediately, drat him! “Ah, Minerva. Would you care for a lemon drop?” He held out a candy that smelled strongly of lemon and sugar. It was no wonder the man was so loopy.

Mentally flexing her muscles, she transformed herself back into the pinch-faced severe woman the Headmaster had been expecting to meet. “Albus,” she greeted him stiffly, “How did you know it was me?”

“My dear Minerva, an ordinary cat would never have sat quite so stiffly on that wall. I imagine you have been here for quite some time. I apologize for my tardiness; there were some matters to clean up at the Ministry.” Albus busied himself with trying to unstick two lemon drops as he spoke. When they finally broke apart with a soft crunching noise, he offered one to her again.

Turning up her nose, Minerva focused on the dark windows of Number Four. “Albus, what on earth have you brought me here for? You can’t seriously be considering leaving the Potter twins _here_ , of all places?”

“Not considering, my dear, it is already done. Hagrid is bringing them here now.” He sucked contemplatively on his sweet. “What they need now is protection only magic can bring them. It was James and Lily’s wish that the twins be left with Sirius or Peter first, and Petunia’s family only as a last resort. Unfortunately, Sirius is now in Azkaban, Peter is dead, and much as it pains me the Ministry will not allow Remus to have custody of the children.”

“Sirius in Azkaban? Peter dead?” Minerva gasped, outraged. “What on earth happened?”

“He went into a rampage, killed Peter and fifteen muggles in the middle of the street just over an hour ago. By the time I got there, he had already been detained and sent to the prison without a trial. There were so many witnesses, I had no chance of getting him a fair hearing.” Albus was frowning sorrowfully.

In the distance, a low roaring sound could be heard.

“Ah! Here comes Hagrid now!” The old man sounded suddenly jovial as the twins were brought to the last place they were wanted.

Minerva frowned up at the bike worriedly. It was not what she or Lily would have wanted, but at least it was a place where the boys would be well cared for. As Hagrid landed, all she could do was watch helplessly as the boys were placed snuggled against one another in a large basket on the doorstep, a thick parchment letter placed between their tiny hands.

“Albus, are you sure?” she tried one last time.

He sighed heavily, suddenly looking his years. “No, my dear, I am not. But there is little else I can do. It was Lily’s wish, after all.”

The three wizards took one last glance at the basket, Albus returned light to the street, and they tearfully returned back to the world they had come from, leaving Harry and Henry to face the shocked face of Petunia Dursley in the morning.


	2. Wizards!?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I know I’m deviating from some of the plot in these first few chapters, and things are going rather quickly, but let’s be honest. We all know how Harry’s story begins so well, that we all at this point tend to skim over the basics. So I’m trying to keep it original but still recognizable and get through it quickly so that we get into the real meat of the plot without the long wait for all this preliminary work. That was probably long-winded, but oh well. On with the story!

**Chapter Two: Wizards!?**

Harry stirred the bacon, being sure to keep it from burning, all the while stealthily lifting a piece of toast from the top of a buttered stack and stuffing it into the pocket of his oversized sweatpants. A small tin of tomatoes and a chunk of cheese soon followed before the bacon was finished and he began serving his relatives. Dudley and Vernon always received the largest portions, while he and Aunt Petunia generally got the same amount, Harry because he was the “freak” and Petunia because she didn’t want to ruin her slim figure.

As soon as he was finished, the ten-year-old boy rinsed his plates in the sink and took the empty plates and pans from the rest of the table and began to clean them. Only when he was finished could he safely escape the notice of his uncle and cousin as they watched the telly and Petunia as she perused the latest issue of Housewives.

Quickly and silently, Harry returned to his cupboard where his twin was waiting for him. Henry pounced as soon as the door was closed on their narrow hideaway. “What did you get?”

Harry quickly produced the fruits of his labors, breakfast for his brother who was being punished for daring to bring a book on magic home from the library to read. The book had, of course, been destroyed, which meant the pair now had to find some way to get the money to replace it. There was no way Vernon would ever give them the money to pay library fines when, “it was their own fault, anyway.”

“It’s not much, but Uncle Vernon was watching me like a hawk, so I didn’t dare take anything else,” Harry explained.

Henry patted him on the shoulder as he quietly pried open the tin of tomatoes, spreading them on his toast as he devoured the chunk of cheese in two bites. “S’all right. I reckon we’ve done worse.”

Harry grinned and leaned back against the lone pillow in their dingy cell. The string from the single light bulb overhead tickled his nose and he batted it away every few moments as he studied the collection of elementary school drawings they had decorated their room with. Each one depicted the both of them in various situations, most of which involved them escaping the Dursleys. His favorite was a picture, well hidden in the corner nearest the door because of what it represented, of them riding a flying motorcycle across a beautiful nighttime sky. The unnaturalness of it would have seen it destroyed immediately, but it was his prize possession and he had protected it well when he brought it home from third grade.

“Hey, Hen?”

His brother grunted, laying the opposite direction on their narrow mattress.

“Our birthday is next week. Do you think anything good will happen?”

“What, like the Dursleys suddenly striking it rich and leaving us in this house to care for ourselves while they move to Majorca to live in a vacation home with Aunt Marge?” Henry asked.

Harry giggled. “That _would_ be wicked.”

His brother laughed. “Nothing could be better, I think. I just hope nothing can get worse.”

“Yeah.” Harry agreed.

They lay like that for another thirty minutes or so, until the distinct sound of the mail coming through the slot in the door could be heard. “Boy!” Vernon yelled, “Get the mail!”

The twins rolled their eyes. As far as their Uncle was concerned, there might as well be one of them. Together, they left the cupboard, hoping they wouldn’t get punished again, considering one of them was supposed to be grounded. The mat beside the door held a postcard from their Aunt Marge, two white envelopes that looked like bills, and…

 _A letter for them._

It was addressed in emerald green ink and said:

Messirs H. J. Potter  
The Cupboard Under the Stairs  
4 Privet Drive  
Little Whinging  
Surrey

On the back there was a strange coat of arms depicting an eagle, a lion, a snake, and a badger and large letter ‘H’.

They exchanged glances. “Wicked.”

“Boy!” Vernon yelled from the next room. “Where’s my mail? Dudley, go find out what he’s doing to the mail!”

They gasped, trying to hide the letter, but they kept shuffling it back and forth between them and in the few moments it took Dudley to smack his way into the foyer with his Smeltings stick, they had done no hiding of it at all.

Their cousin immediately noticed what they were doing and gasped in outrage. “DAD!” he yelled, “THEY’VE GOT A LETTER!”

Pounding footsteps came in from the living room and Harry desperately tried to hide the letter behind his back as his Uncle came within inches of them, his hot breath fogging their glasses with his proximity.

“Letter? Why would _you_ get a letter?” Vernon whispered dangerously.

“Er… it _was_ addressed to us,” Henry said.

“Let me see it.” Their Uncle held out his hand expectantly and Harry reluctantly handed over the strange parchment that had come for them.

By this time, Petunia had come in to see what the commotion was about and gasped at the sight of the letter. She came forward and the pair read the address on the letter and then flipped it over to see the seal.

“P-P-Petunia!” Dursley gasped.

“It’s them!” she cried.

“Who’s ‘them,’” cried Harry and Henry in unison. “Yeah!” Dudley added lamely.

“GO TO YOUR CUPBOARD!” Vernon thundered, taking Petunia by the shoulders as they disappeared into the living room, shutting the door behind them. Dudley tried to follow, only to be yelled at, probably for the first time in his memory, “Dudley, leave, just leave!”

The three boys immediately had a rough but quiet tumble over who was going to listen at the keyhole, which the twins lost very quickly simply because of Dudley’s Smeltings stick. Instead, they enjoyed the larger hole at the bottom of the door and began listening in time to hear:

“Petunia, we swore when we took them in that we would stamp out that nonsense! I won’t have it, not under my roof!”

“But Vernon, look! They have the cupboard on here. What if they’re watching?”

“Ha, ha! Even they can’t keep watch on us all the time! You mark my words, I’ll put a stop to this!”

The boys scuttled away from the door as Uncle Vernon reappeared, looking rather frazzled. He took the parchment in his hands and ripped it into tiny pieces before their eyes.

“Get your things together, boys. You’re moving!”

Harry and Henry exchanged looks of horror. Leaving the Dursleys was the thing they had always hoped for, but this new mystery of the letter made them want to stick around a bit longer to find out who ‘they’ were and what it meant for them! There was also the fear that their Uncle would separate them through spite or by accident, and they absolutely couldn’t let that happen!

But years of experience had taught them that arguing rarely worked with Vernon Dursley, so they disappeared into the cupboard and grabbed their meager possessions (Harry didn’t dare to take the drawings, it would be best to try and return for them at a later date) before reconvening beside the front door.

Vernon surveyed them, looking pleased. “Right, follow me.”

And to their surprise, he led them up the stairs and not out the door as they had been expecting. Dudley followed out of curiosity and the four of them arrived into Dudley’s second bedroom. The room was called such because of the extraordinary quantity of presents that Dudley had broken or just never used over the years. As soon as he realized what was going on, though, their cousin broke into wails. “But this is _my_ room, Daddy! I _need_ it!”

“Silence, Dudley!” Vernon barked, yelling at his son for the second time ever. “There’s nothing to be done about it!” He rounded on the twins. “You two. You will sleep here from now on. And _no funny business!_ Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Uncle Vernon,” they answered obediently.

As soon as he was gone of course, they proceeded to demolish Dudley’s carefully disorganized mess, keeping interesting tidbits here and there as they discussed the latest series of events.

“Har, I know I was just joking about the Dursleys leaving us to go live somewhere else, but I feel like that letter was something important. _And_ it was addressed to _us_. Which means someone out there knows we exist and wants something to do with us.” He shuffled through a section of the pile, filling a bin with some of the things that were beyond help and setting aside others, like a broken alarm clock that had probably met with a wall the first time Dudley had used it.

“I know. I just hope whatever they want, it’s something good. At the very least, I suppose they can’t separate us, or won’t want to. Otherwise, it wouldn’t have been addressed to both of us.” Harry smiled over the mountain of toys at his brother. He had already found a somewhat reparable tin car in the pile. It was only missing a wheel, and he was sure there would be something else with wheels in the pile that might fit.

A wail from downstairs made them pause in their sorting for a few moments. Dudley was clearly throwing a tantrum over the loss of his room, most likely complete with fake tears and kicking and screaming on the floor. Their cousin hadn’t thrown a real tantrum in years, but he was still rather good at pretending to have them. They were gleeful to hear Petunia taking him to task: “They are going to live in that room, and that is final. They were getting too big for the cupboard, anyway.” This last was said a tad louder than necessary, almost as if it were intended for prying ears. Whoever ‘they’ were, the Dursleys weren’t taking any chances.

“Do you suppose whoever it was will try again, Hen?”

“I hope so. If they don’t, we’ll have to find out more about that crest somehow. I’ll check the library at school when we start up again in September.”

Little did they know that further research would be unnecessary.

-o-0-o-

“Henry, get the mail!” Petunia snapped at them the next morning. Harry was cooking a late brunch as it was Saturday, which left a pair of idle hands. Idle hands was one thing Petunia could not abide from them.

He obliged, secretly hoping that there would be another letter. Their Aunt and Uncle had apparently put the incident behind them after the destruction of the letter the day before and the subsequent relocation of their wards. So it was that Henry found the three letters sitting on the mat that morning. Quickly, he picked one up and stuffed it into his pants, carrying the other two and a bill back into the kitchen.

“There’s two more, Harry!” he cried, silently begging his twin to forgive him for the mild fib.

Vernon made an inarticulate roar and snatched the mail from his hands before the twins could rip open the letters. The two thick pieces of parchment were tossed into the small kitchen fireplace that Petunia used to bake crusty bread. A quick light of a match and the flames curled around the green ink. Harry and Henry watched on sadly as their hopes were burned up.

“Go to your cupboard… gah, room!” Dursley cried at them.

Henry hurried to oblige, dragging his brother from the room and up the stairs before he could protest.

“Hen, what?”

“Shh, Har. Look!” He pulled the third letter from the waistband of his pants, licking his lips as he held it out to the other boy. “You open it!”

Nodding, Harry slid his finger along the flap, ripping the thick paper quickly, just in case Vernon was going to come and give them a talking to. Shoulder to shoulder, the pair started to read:

 _Hogwarts School  
of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

 _Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore  
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,  
Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

 _Dear Messirs Potter,  
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _Minerva McGonagall,  
Deputy Headmistress_

“What does it mean, they await our owl?” Harry decided to ask first.

Henry shook his head, reading the letter a second time. “Harry, do you think this is real? Do you think we’ve really been invited to learn magic someplace?”

Feeling the heavy parchment between his fingers, reading the light scratch of the green ink on the paper, all he could do was nod. “Stranger things have happened to us, remember?”

His brother nodded, too. A lifetime of torment with the Dursleys had led to several unexplained things happening to the both of them. There was the time they were being chased by Dudley and his gang and they jumped behind the bin near the school cafeteria, and the next moment found themselves on the roof. Or more recently, when they had spoken to a snake at the zoo on Dudley’s birthday. Vernon always punished them by making them go hungry and stay in their cupboard when these things happened.

“But what if those things are magic?” Harry whispered, afraid to believe it was true.

“Well, if they are, then we have a problem. Whatever the owl thing means, they’re expecting us to acknowledge attendance before the end of the month! Not to mention, we have no idea how to get these supplies.” Henry was looking at the second piece of paper, which looked to detail the books and other things they would need. “Books, uniforms, wands, _cauldrons_?” He scoffed at the list in disgust.

“We haven’t any money, either,” Harry reminded him reluctantly.

“We need help,” his twin acknowledged grudgingly. “It’s clear our relatives won’t help. Think, Harry. Is there anyone we know who’s just a little bit strange, a little bit _magical_?”

Harry pondered for a moment and named the only person he could think of, “Mrs. Figg?”

Henry looked at him with amazement for a moment before kissing his brother on the forehead. “You’re brill, Har! Come on, let’s see if we can sneak out and go see her.”

“Go _see_ her?” Harry asked, aghast. “But she’ll feed us stale cake and make us look at pictures of her cats and…”

“It’s a small price to pay if she’s actually a witch,” Henry pointed out.

Pausing, Harry nodded a little to himself and followed his brother downstairs where they exploded out the front door to Uncle Vernon’s yelling, “Get back here!” A few lawns over and they were ready to knock on Mrs. Figg’s front door.

“Ready?” Henry asked, his hand poised.

Harry nodded and watched as his brother knocked. They waited in silence, their breaths held as they listened to see if she was coming.


	3. Mrs. Figg

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I hope everyone likes the little twists to the plot I’m making. Hopefully I’ll be able to keep it up for the rest of the story. Onward!

**Chapter Three: Mrs. Figg**

It was only a few moments before they heard the sound of footsteps coming from inside. The old-fashioned wooden door cracked open and a rheumy blue eye peeked out at them, before the crack suddenly widened and Arabella Figg looked down at them in confusion.

“Henry? Harry? Boys, what are you doing here? Did the Dursleys decide to leave you with me again?” She peered out at the street as though she might see Vernon’s shiny blue company car speeding away from the curb.

“Mrs. Figg,” Henry blurted, “Are you a witch?”

“What are you doing!?” Harry hissed at him in alarm.

“Relax, if she is, then we’ll have help, and if not, she’ll write it off as us just being kids.” Henry whispered softly in his ear.

Meanwhile, Arabella had drawn in her breath at the shock of these boys asking her such a question. “Don’t be silly, boys,” she laughed fakely, “come in, come in!”

Resigned to their fate, since it seemed she wasn’t a witch as they hoped, the twins followed her inside. But as soon as Mrs. Figg had closed the door behind them, she bent down and asked in a harsh whisper, “Did you get your letter, then?”

Hope rekindled in their eyes. Henry asked, “It’s real, then? Magic, and Hogwarts, and we… we can do _magic_?”

Smiling warmly, Mrs. Figg motioned them to sit on her old overstuffed paisley couch and busied herself with getting two more cups for the tea she already had waiting on the table across from them as she explained, “Real, yes! Though I’ve never been to Hogwarts myself, since I’m a squib. My whole family before me went there.”

“What’s a squib?” Harry asked.

Arabella turned with their favorite cups in her hands—white with blue Chinese dragons painted across them—and sat in her chair by the table as she poured the tea. “Well, there are three types of people in the world. There are muggles, like your relatives, non-magic folk. There are wizards and witches, like you. And then there are people who _ought_ to be magical, like me. My whole family is magic, you see, but when I was about your age and I didn’t show any signs and didn’t receive my Hogwarts letter, I was labeled a squib. We aren’t very well liked by the wizarding world. Some people consider the purity of a wizards blood to be the most important thing about them.”

The twins listened with rapt attention, a million questions buzzing at the tips of their tongues. But Mrs. Figg went on:

“If you’ve gotten your letter, then you’ll need to go to Diagon Alley in London to get your supplies. I think we all know that the Dursleys won’t take you to London without a good excuse, and with the way they feel about magic…” she mumbled disgruntedly to herself for a moment as she handed the boys their tea, “Well, you’ll have to tell them before you leave, of course. You dears sit tight for a moment while I floo Albus to see if we can’t get a guide to show you the way and to explain things to your family.”

She set down her own cup and moved into the adjacent room where they saw her reach into a pot on the mantel and throw a handful of something into the fire. A second later the flames had turned into a cheerful crackle of emerald green and Mrs. Figg called out, “Albus Dumbledore, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!” Quietly, Harry and Henry crept into the room to watch this first example of magic. Just as they had taken position peering around Mrs. Figg, a man with a long white beard appeared in the fireplace. At least, his head appeared. He seemed to be having some trouble with his beard getting caught up in the swirling flames and wrapping about his head. When he had gotten himself sorted out, they saw an elderly man with twinkling eyes and a pair of half moon glasses perched precariously on his rather crooked nose.

“Oh, Albus! For Merlin’s sake!” Arabella laughed. “I have some news about the Potters.”

“The boys?” Albus asked, suddenly all business. His eyes searched the bits of the room he could see from the grate and spied two pairs of knobbly knees trying to hide behind Arabella’s skirts. Looking up, he couldn’t help the extra bright twinkle that crept into his eyes as he saw the Potter twins again for the first time since he had left them on Privet Drive. “My boys!” he cried, “How have you been the past ten years? Are Vernon and Petunia treating you well?”

“Er…” Harry exchanged a glance with his brother. “Sorry sir, but… uh… no.”

“No?” Dumbledore frowned, craning his neck to look up at Mrs. Figg. “Stand back, Arabella, I’m coming through!”

She hastily backed away from the grate, ushering the twins with her. A moment later, the emerald green flames gushed upwards and Dumbledore appeared, all of him this time, brushing soot from canary yellow robes decorated with absurd little pictures of multi-colored rubber ducks. “Now then,” he said, “what’s this about the Dursleys?”

Harry nibbled his lower lip and took a step behind his brother. Henry was much better at dealing with things like this.

Determined that someone, at last, would see the situation and correct it, Henry laid out all the facts for this man who, according to their letter, was the Headmaster of Hogwarts. “Well, sir. Until the first letter arrived, we shared the cupboard under the stairs as our bedroom. Whenever we so much as mentioned magic or anything unnatural, we were locked in there without food until Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia decided they needed us for some chore. We were forced to cook, clean, mend, garden, and anything else they could think up while Dudley never lifted a finger except to punch us or chase us with his little gang of friends. We couldn’t turn in our best work at school without being smarter than him, which he would whinge about until we were punished for cheating (again without food) and every other time we’ve tried to tell an adult this, absolutely nothing has been done to change it.” Henry took a deep breath, hoping that the stricken look on the Headmaster’s face meant that he was doing well. “So, _sir_ , no, we have not been all that well since we started living on Privet Drive. Nothing’s gone well since our parents died in the car accident and we lived on without them.”

Harry’s arms snaked around his middle, holding him tight. Despite his bravado, it was terribly hard for Henry to admit that all of these things had been done to them when their past attempts to confess had always failed. But magic had given them hope. Perhaps this Dumbledore would be different.

“Car accident?” Dumbledore whispered. “Oh, boys, it appears that things have not gone as I had hoped at all. Not at all.” Sighing, he motioned everyone back into the living room and the cooling tea and took the remaining chair opposite Arabella. “Your parents did not die in a car accident. They were killed by the most powerful dark wizard our world has ever known. His name was Lord Voldemort. On the night of your parent’s deaths, Voldemort gained the information he needed to find them. And he came, and he killed them. But when he tried to kill you, the curse rebounded, leaving behind only those marks on your cheeks.”

The twins touched the identical lightning marks on their faces. “They told us these were just birthmarks.” Harry whispered.

Dumbledore closed his eyes in pain. “I thought it was best to leave you with the Dursleys, my boys. It was your mother’s wish, should your other guardians be unable to take you, that you go to her sister. But I can see now that I should have looked elsewhere. Can you ever forgive me?”

Henry shrugged and Harry just looked at him with wide, sad eyes.

Sighing, the Headmaster attempted to shake off the melancholy that had settled on the room. “I will have to see what can be done about it. But for now, will you be all right spending the rest of the summer living with the Dursleys? Only until you leave for Hogwarts on the first of September.”

They nodded, reminded once more of the magical school that they would be going to in a little over a month.

“Which is what I was flooing you about in the first place, Albus.” Mrs. Figg handed him a cup of tea and settled once more in her chair. “Vernon and Petunia are much too much against anything magical to take the boys to Diagon. I was hoping to enlist your help in finding a guide to take them and to help explain things to the Dursleys.”

Dumbledore nodded. “I’ll explain things to them myself,” he said dangerously, the twinkle in his eyes changed to a hard glint. “And I’ll ask the professors if anyone is willing to escort the twins to do their shopping.” He smiled over his spectacles at the boys, who gave weak grins in return.

“Sir,” Henry asked, “Does this mean we won’t have to come back here again, once you find us a new guardian?”

“Yes, my boy. I promise.”

“And we won’t be separated?” Harry asked softly, tightening the hold he had on his brother’s hand.

“No, of course not!” Mrs. Figg exclaimed. “Separate the Potters! The mere thought…”

“There is much that you do not yet know.” Dumbledore told them softly. “In our world, you are famous for more than just surviving the Dark Lord Voldemort. You see, the curse he used on you is one for which we have no counter. Yet it did not affect either of you. In the wizarding world, you are known as the boys who lived.”

“But what happened to Voldemort?” Harry asked.

“Good question, my boy!” Dumbledore crowed. “Many people believe that he died that night. But I think that he is out there somewhere, waiting to make his move so that he can return and finish where he left off. You would do well to be cautious when things seem to be strange to you.”

Harry nodded seriously, while Henry frowned. “But sir, surely if he were still out there someone would have seen or heard from him after all this time?”

“Ah, but if he lives, what sort of man do you think he might be to have survived the Killing Curse? He disappeared the night you survived, it is true, but what sort of vapor or mist could be left? What piece? I believe that Voldemort used very dark magic to ensure his survival. Very dark magic indeed. But, I believe I have given you too much to think about as it is. I’m just going to pop over to the Dursleys for a bit and give them a good talking to. I’ll see that someone is along to collect you both in a few days to get your school things. And I’ll also make sure that your Uncle will take you to the station on the first to catch the train. Toodleoo!” And with that, the Headmaster swept outside, his canary yellow robes even brighter in the sunlight outside.

“That was… abrupt,” Henry muttered.

But the Headmaster’s departure meant that they were now at the mercy of Mrs. Figg, who proceeded to parade her albums of cat pictures past them. It was dark by the time they made their escape, though at least the squib had fed them something resembling a dinner, which was more than the Dursleys were likely to give them upon arriving home.

“Do you think Dumbledore really talked to them?” Harry asked.

“I hope so. And I hope he did something to them, to make them nicer to us while we’re still here,” Henry replied bitterly.

They hesitantly came through the familiar door of number four. Vernon and Dudley were, as usual, sitting in front of the telly. Petunia was nowhere to be seen. Deciding to test their luck, they went into the kitchen and pulled two glasses out of the cupboards to get some water from the tap.

“Harry, Henry!” Petunia was now standing in the kitchen doorway. “I didn’t hear you come in. Just water? Would you like some juice?” She bustled over to the fridge and pulled out a carton of orange juice, then took their glasses and dumped out the water and filled them to the brim with the juice.

Henry looked at the glass in his hand suspiciously. Neither boy had ever been allowed to have juice in the Dursley house. It was something special that, if they were lucky, they sometimes got at school on activity days. Something strange was clearly going on here.

“Are you hungry? We’ve already eaten dinner, but I put some plates for you in the fridge, so if your little tummies get rumbly, don’t be afraid to pop down and have a snack." Harry spotted the promised plates in the fridge as she put the juice away, and gasped. They were piled high with chicken, rice, and vegetables. Portions that were usually reserved for Dudley and Vernon.

He and Henry looked at one another in wonder. What had Dumbledore done to their relatives?

“When you finish watching the telly, try to get to bed early. I want to leave bright and early tomorrow to get you both some proper clothes!” With that, Petunia flounced into the living room and joined her husband and son on the long couch, which the twins had never been allowed to sit on. She turned to look at them and patted the empty corner beside her in invitation.

“What do you reckon?” Henry asked softly.

“I reckon he’s brill, Hen. It may be too good to be true, but why not take advantage while we still can?”

Nodding, they joined the rest of the family on the couch, sipping their juice and viewing some of Dudley’s favorite programs. Their Uncle tried to ask what they would like to watch, but having never seen anything before, they just let their cousin pick. Dudley, for his part, seemed more than happy to educate his cousins on the finer points of television.

When Petunia ushered them upstairs to bed, they went without any argument, happy for the first time in a long time.

-o-0-o-

Dumbledore seemed to be as good as his word. For the past week, Harry and Henry had been treated to real, properly fitted clothes, foods and meal portions they had only dreamed about before, and the surprisingly good company of their cousin, now that he wasn’t trying to beat them up. July the thirty-first arrived and with it came several surprises.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” greeted them as they entered the kitchen that morning. A mound of presents was covering the table, breakfast was already cooked, but waiting on the stove for them to open the presents and then eat. Petunia was beaming at them, Vernon had his arms crossed over his chest proudly, and Dudley was holding out an oddly shaped package to both of them, clearly wanting them to open that one first.

Grinning, they ripped into the paper, finding a brand new Playstation 2, which they had learned about from Dudley earlier in the week. Excited now, they opened the rest of the parcels on the table and received a TV, three controllers for the game system so they could play with Dudley if they wanted, an assortment of ten new games, some books that Henry had shown interest in, and for Harry a brand-new football which he gushed over after having seeing his first football game on the telly the day before.

“There’s one more present!” Petunia announced when they were finished. She looked over their shoulders towards the door and turning, they saw Uncle Vernon holding a large box as big as he was that depicted a pair of bunk beds.

“Wicked!” the twins exclaimed.

Their Uncle hefted the box up the stairs and they impatiently gobbled down their breakfast as they listened to the sounds of clanking metal, hammering, and Vernon’s curses from upstairs.

Just as they finished and were about to run back to their room to see the construction efforts, the doorbell rang.

“Oh, boys, could you get that?” Petunia called from the kitchen, busy with the dishes.

“Yes, Aunt Petunia!” Harry and Henry answered reluctantly. They raced to the door and opened it to see who was on the other side. But in the place of the expected mail or milkman was a sneering gentleman with lank black hair, wearing a long-sleeved dark collared shirt with far too many buttons and skinny black trousers that buttoned from knee to ankle over his heeled boots.

“I am here to escort Mr. Henry and Harry Potter to Diagon Alley to retrieve their school supplies,” the man announced sharply, glaring down his large hooked nose at them.

Henry smirked, thrusting his hand forward for the man to shake. “I’m Henry. This is my little brother, Harry.”

“Hey! I’m only younger by… well, not that long. We’re twins, silly!” Harry stuttered a bit, as he wasn’t sure exactly how much time had passed between Henry’s birth and his own.

The man grimaced at the offered hand, but shook it anyway. “And I am Severus Snape, Potions Master at Hogwarts. You will address me as Professor, or sir.”

Harry shook his hand as well and they offered to let the Professor come inside. “Sorry, sir, Professor Dumbledore only told us he would send someone in a few days, not when exactly. We weren’t expecting you.”

“Indeed,” Snape sneered.

They led the dour man into the living room and bade him to sit while they went to fetch their Aunt. “It’s our birthday, you see,” Harry explained, “and we’re not sure if she’ll mind us leaving or not.”

But when they asked Petunia, up to her elbows in soapy water in the sink, she told them that today was when Dumbledore had scheduled for them to visit Diagon, and hadn’t they mentioned it?

Returning to the living room, they found Snape staring at the ceiling in consternation as the hammering and cursing continued from upstairs.

“What _is_ that racket?” he asked.

“Oh, Uncle Vernon got us bunk beds for our birthday!” Henry said, smiling happily. “We’ve been sharing the single bed up there till now, so I guess they realized we’ve gotten too big for that.”

Snape frowned at them momentarily, but was prevented from speaking when Harry said, “And Aunt Petunia says that Professor Dumbledore wanted you to come today, so we can go now if you like.” They were quite excited about seeing the wizarding world at last.

“Very well. If you would lead me to Mrs. Figg’s house. We’ll be taking the Floo Network to Diagon Alley.” Snape stood fluidly and stalked quickly to the front door, the twins scuttling along behind him.

They chattered back and forth across all three yards and on the front stoop of number ten, where Arabella lived. The squib answered the door and greeted the Potions Master, “Severus! How good to see you!”

He grunted in response and turned down all offers to visit for tea, saying that he had business for the Headmaster to see to. “Just came to borrow your Floo, Mrs. Figg,” he said at least twice.

“Now then. I know you haven’t experienced any magical forms of travel before, so listen carefully. Take a handful of Floo powder, throw it in the flames, step in and announce your destination as clearly as possible. Watch for the right grating and step out when you’ve got the right one. I’ll take you both one at a time since this is your first time. Come along, Mr. Potter.”

Both boys stepped forward at the same time, and Snape gripped the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “ _Three_ sets of twins this year,” he muttered under his breath. “ _Henry_ , you come first.” The named boy came forward and followed Snape’s instructions and the pair stepped together into the fireplace, with the Professor’s hands gripping his arms tightly. “Keep your elbows in, now.”

They disappeared in a whoosh of green and Harry watched in fascination as Snape reappeared a few minutes later. “You now, Harry. Come along. Thank you, Mrs. Figg.”

Harry joined him in the fireplace and winced slightly as Snape’s long and bony fingers dug into his arms. “Diagon Alley!” he cried as clearly as he could. The grate whooshed away and dozens of others followed it.

“The one we want is the Leaky Cauldron. A pub of sorts, but rather old-fashioned looking,” Snape murmured in his ear.

Harry thought all of the places flashing by looked old-fashioned, but then one zoomed up that held his own image smiling back at him and he rushed forward, landing on the floor with a ‘thump’ at Henry’s feet and choking on ash. Snape calmly stepped out after him, sneering down at him on the floor and waving his wand over them both while saying, “ _Scourgify._ ” He found himself suddenly cleaned of fireplace debris.

“Welcome,” Snape sneered sarcastically, “to the Leaky Cauldron.”


	4. Diagon Alley

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I apologize in advance for the large number of lines with similarity to the scene with Ollivander in Chapter Five of HPatSS. It’s rather hard to get away from in that place. :(

**Chapter Four: Diagon Alley**

Snape escorted them to Gringott’s, the wizards bank. Inside, the twins were awed by the goblins balancing gold and gems on their scales from behind the high counters. The Professor presented a small gold key to one of them and within moments they were rolling through the twisting underground passageways to reach the Potter vault. The goblin, whose name was Griphook, opened the door to reveal a huge mound of gold, silver, and bronze coins. Both boys filled a small bag with a little of each as Snape explained the particulars of wizard gold.

“The gold ones are galleons, silver sickles, and bronze knuts. Seventeen sickles to the galleon, twenty-nine knuts to a sickle. You’ll be wanting more galleons for this trip, since you’re getting all of your first-year supplies.”

When they were finished, they traveled the mine tracks back to the surface where a great giant of a man was waiting for a goblin to return to take him to his vault. To their surprise, Snape stopped to greet him before they continued:

“Hagrid. What brings you here?” Severus asked.

“Business for Professor Dumbledore.” Hagrid beamed proudly. “Sent me to retrieve the you-know-what in vault 713.”

“Did he?” Snape murmured.

“Excuse me, Hagrid, sir. Do you know the Headmaster?” Harry asked curiously.

“Know ‘im?” Hagrid boomed, “Why, ‘e’s the greatest ‘Eadmaster ‘Ogwarts ‘as ever ‘ad! Trusted me with an important mission, ‘e did.” The giant man peered down at them a moment later, realizing that he didn’t know who had been asking. His eyes widened a second later, “Blimey! The Potter twins. Why, I ‘aven’t seen you two since you were nigh on ‘bout a year old, the both of ya.” And before either Harry or Henry could react, they had been pulled into a musty, furry hug by the Keeper of the Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts.

“Hagrid, put them down. We need to be getting on with their shopping, and I don’t have all day,” Snape interrupted.

“Oh, o’ course, Professor. Sorry, kids, just couldn’ help meself, it’s been so long since I seen ya. Take care!” Griphook led the man into the mineshaft and Snape motioned impatiently for them to get going the opposite direction.

“We’ll do uniforms first, then books, then all of the other supplies you’ll need. Follow me.” He moved off at a fast clip through the crowd of wizards and witches. Harry and Henry were hard-pressed to keep up. At last they stopped outside of a shop called Madame Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions. “Go on in, I’m sure Madame Malkin will know what you need. I have a… request,” here the Professor sneered, “that Professor Dumbledore asked me to take care of. I’ll be right back.”

Left alone at last, the twins made their way into the shop where a middle-aged witch, who was looking quite frazzled, immediately pounced on them. “Hogwarts, dears? Step on up!” She motioned them onto two black stepstools and motioned her wand at two measuring tapes, which immediately began to whip around them in a frenzied state.

A third boy was being fitted with his own robes on a stool beside them. “You’re for Hogwarts as well?” he asked.

“Yes,” The twins replied simultaneously.

“My parents are next door picking up my books. As soon as I’m done here I’m going to drag them off to look at the newest broom, the Nimbus Two Thousand. Do you play quidditch? It’s a shame that first-years aren’t allowed on the teams.”

“Er…” Harry mumbled, unsure what to say.

“What’s quidditch?” Henry asked.

“What’s quidditch!?” the boy asked incredulously. “Don’t tell me you’re muggleborns?” His nose wrinkled distastefully at the thought of consorting with them if that were the case.

“No,” Harry said quickly, “Both our parents were magical, but we were raised by muggles. They didn’t see fit to tell us about any of this until our Hogwarts letter came.”

“So that’s the way of it. My name is Draco Malfoy, I’m a pureblood.” The boy, now finished with his fitting, held out his hand for both of them to shake. Henry did so readily enough, but Harry only stared at the offensive hand for several moments until his brother nudged him sharply in the ribs. He grudgingly took the hand. Draco looked at the front of the shop as they heard the bell jingling. “There are my parents now. Oh, and…”

Professor Snape had entered the shop with the Malfoys. Draco’s parents were quite similar in coloring, both blond and regal in appearance. Draco clearly took more after his mother, however.

“Professor Snape.” The twins greeted their guide respectfully. “Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy.”

“That’s you done, dears.” Madame Malkin told them. They quickly hopped down from the stools to join the adults.

“Lucius.” Snape inclined his head slightly to the Malfoy partriarch.

“Severus. Running errands for the Headmaster again?” Lucius glanced down at the twins with a raised eyebrow. “The Potters? But of course.”

Strangely, Snape shifted his weight slightly to move subtly in front of Harry and Henry. “Just collecting their school supplies. Their guardians were…unable to come.”

Draco, meanwhile, was looking at them with wide eyes now that he knew who they were. But with his father so close, he didn’t dare say anything to them or ask how the boys who lived had been raised by muggles.

Severus finished saying something to Lucius and beckoned the twins to follow him. “Come along, the bookstore is next door.”

He followed them both closely, and prevented Henry from running off and exploring the stacks of books by himself. “Stay together!” he snarled when they tried to protest, “I can’t keep an eye on both of you if you go off by yourselves.”

Sensing that the professor was worried about something, they obeyed him after that. Henry, of course, still ogled more books than Harry would ever have even a passing interest in. When the Professor tried to stop him from buying extras, “Stick to the first-year texts, Mr. Potter,” Henry just turned and leveled his best glare at the man until he backed off, then purposefully dropped the three volumes in his hands into their shopping basket.

“Hen, come on!” Harry whined after his brother spent ten minutes gleefully perusing the section on curses and their counters.

“All right, all right,” Henry agreed, “But the next time we come by ourselves, I’m going to stay as long as I like.”

“Fine. Can we just go, already? Remember, the Professor doesn’t have all day.”

Henry snuck a guilty glance at the Professor, only to catch the fleeting edge of what he could swear had been a _smile_ and a muttered comment about “Lily”. Putting two and two together, he casually asked as they were checking out, “Did you know our mother, Professor?”

Snape frowned caustically at him, before giving in with a resigned sigh. “Yes. We were good friends as children. I used to live right next to Lily and Petunia. Of course, all that changed when James Potter came into the picture.” The man snapped his jaws shut after that, refusing to say anymore.

When they had gotten their wrapped parcels tied together and were leaving, Snape spoke once more, “I did not have a chance to finish my task before I spotted Lucius and Narcissa making their way to the robe shop. It was Dumbledore’s wish that the professors could buy you a birthday present, and he suggested that we get your pet animals. Since I was interrupted, I see no reason why you can’t pick them yourselves.”

Both boys’ eyes’ lit up with joy. They had never had a pet before, and now it seemed they would each be getting one. Moments later, Snape led them in the Magical Menagerie.

“Do keep in mind, Messirs Potter, that students may only have an owl OR a cat OR a toad. Though there have been exceptions.” Snape said, remaining near the door of the shop while they made their selections.

Harry quickly made his way to the owls. Mrs. Figg had explained a bit more about the wizarding form of mail to them, and he wanted to be able to keep in touch with his friends during the summers. At least, he hoped he would make friends.

A snowy white owl caught his eye. She hooted gently at him and, grinning, Harry took her cage down and returned to the front of the store.

Henry, on the other hand, had been intrigued by snakes ever since their adventure in the zoo earlier that summer. Although he had heard Snape’s warning about the allowed pets, he just couldn’t help looking anyway. Besides, he and his brother wouldn't need more than one owl and he knew that was what Harry intended to get.

That was how he found a Quetzalcoatl winged snake curled up in its terrarium in the dark back corner of the store. Gently touching the glass enclosure, he watched as a vibrant blue eye peered open and the opalescent white scales uncoiled, revealing a line of steel gray feathers along the snake’s spine. The wings were located just behind the head joint, covered in the same soft gray feathers.

 _“Hello,”_ Henry whispered, unconsciously using Parseltongue.

The snake’s eyes widened a bit at being confronted with a Speaker. _“Hello, Ssspeaker,” _he answered. _“Have you come to free me?”___

 _“I would like to,”_ Henry answered sadly, _“But we aren’t really allowed to have sssnakes at ssschool.”_

 _“What petsss are you allowed, Ssspeaker?”_

 _“Owls, cats, and toads,”_ the boy answered distastefully.

The snake laughed a sibilant hiss of syllables. _“Then free me. I will come with you as a cat.”_ With that, the snake’s scales began to shift, changing to a soft white fur with spots of gray along his back. The pale blue eyes kept their slitted appearance but grew wider, framed by whiskers and a small heart-shaped nose. “Meow!” the cat ordered him insistently.

Realizing that the cat was now too large for the terrarium, Henry hurried to remove the cover, gently picking up the cat in his arms. _“How did you do that?”_ he asked.

 _“I am a Quetzalcoatl, young Ssspeaker. Named after the god of the Aztecsss. I have many abilities that I do not know how to explain.”_

 _“All right. I’ll sssee if I can find the time to research snakes at ssschool, then.”_ Henry smiled, scratching the cat under his chin and feeling the rumbling purr in response. _“Do you have a name?”_

 _“Ssserasssh,”_ the snake hissed, still enjoying the scratching sensation.

“Serash,” Henry said in English. “Come along then, and I’ll free you.” He returned to the front of the store.

“Finished?” Snape asked. Both boys had returned now. He noted their choices, a snowy owl and a gray cat. Satisfied, he asked the shop owner how much.

“Fer the owl, ten galleons. The cat…” the owner stopped, looking at the cat in Henry’s arms with confusion.

“What is it?” Snape asked impatiently.

The owner startled. “Er… nothing, sir. Just didn’t realize I had any gray cats left. The cat’ll be another five.”

Snape handed over the money and asked for a carrier for the cat as well. When the transaction was completed, he led the boys back into the street to continue their shopping.

“All that’s left are your potions things, two trunks, and your wands.”

They followed the Professor into the Apothecary next, where he ordered two sets of ingredients for first-year students. “I teach Potions,” he informed them, “You will _not_ , under any circumstances, buy _extra_ ingredients that are not included in your yearly set.” They also picked up their scales, cauldrons, and crystal phials to store their potions in the Apothecary as well. “Telescopes and trunks.” Snape said, leading them to their last stop, Sterling’s Sundries. Each of them selected a single black steamer trunk edged in silver and piled all of their purchases inside. The Professor shrunk these and pocketed them.

“Now, there’s only one place to get wands. Ollivander’s.”

They entered the dusty shop to find it empty except for a counter and a single rickety chair which Snape immediately sat in and crossed his legs. The twins walked forward hesitantly, eyeing the tall shelves full of thin little boxes in a variety of colors.

“Messirs Potter,” a voice said softly out of nowhere. They turned to see an old man with pale, wide eyes shining like moons from his wrinkled face. He studied them with an odd smile on his face, “Yes, I thought you would be in soon. You have your mother’s eyes, just as they say.” He moved closer, studying the mark on Harry’s right cheek and the one on Henry’s left. A finger moved forward to hover over the younger twin’s face. “And that’s where… I’m sorry to say that I sold the wand that did it. Yew, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Very powerful.”

The twins exchanged a brief glance at that, but Ollivander continued.

“Well now, Messirs Potter. Which are your wand arms?”

Harry immediately held out his right, but Henry seemed unsure. “Er… I write with my right, but it seems strange somehow to hold a wand like a pencil.”

“Ah! You are one of those, I see.” Henry frowned in response. “Very well, let us begin the testing.” The old man began to pull down boxes, removing the dusty covers so that each boy in turn could take the wand inside. The first one that Harry tried shot out sparks that exploded a vase behind the counter. Henry caused the only lantern in the shop to shoot upwards and slam itself into the wall.

It took a half dozen more tries before Ollivander tapped his lips, saying, “I wonder…” he disappeared into the back of the shelves and returned with an especially dusty box. Pulling open the lid, he announced, “Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches.”

Both twins reached for it at the same time, Henry’s left hand and Harry’s right landing on it at the same moment. A swirling rush of magic surged through the room and multicolored sparks shot around them. They both felt the oddest surge of power that quickly dissipated as they reflexively dropped the wand back into the box.

“How odd,” Ollivander mumbled. He motioned for Henry to take it. The boy obliged, but nothing happened. Harry picked it up as well with the same result. Exchanging a glance, they both picked it up at the same time again, and experienced the same swirl of magic as before. The shop owner removed it from their hands after a few seconds, replacing it in the box and wrapping it in brown paper with a wave of his hand. “Very odd, indeed. It so happens that the phoenix who gave the feather in that wand gave one other. Just one. And that wand, why it gave you those scars.”

Harry looked at the wrapped box sadly, while Henry tried to appear stoic.

“But, that doesn’t help us with the problem of your wands. I feel it would be best if you took that one, since you had such a strange reaction to it. I’ve never seen a wand react to two wizards touching it, but neither one by themselves. But your own wands must be here somewhere. Let’s keep looking, shall we?”

Twenty minutes later, the selections had been made. For Harry, there was a twelve inch mahogany wand with a dragon’s heartstring. Henry’s was ebony, a slim and slender ten inches with a unicorn tail hair inside.

“Twenty-one galleons.” Ollivander announced happily, receiving payment from Snape, who was holding their moneybags.

“All right, then,” the Professor looked down his nose at them again. “I shall return you to your relatives now. They will deliver you to the station on September the first. Do you know how to reach the platform?”

The boys shook their heads in confusion.

Sighing, Snape handed them their tickets. “Platform nine and three-quarters is between platforms nine and ten. All you have to do is walk through the barrier between them. Look about for other wizarding folk if you have trouble.” By this time they had reached the Leaky Cauldron once more. The Professor motioned them towards the fireplace. “Just ask for Mrs. Figg’s.”

One behind the other, the twins used the floo powder and returned to Privet Drive.


	5. The Hogwarts Express

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This was a hard chapter to write, and the boys weren’t cooperating very well (small wonder, considering the horrible things I did to them). :: grin :: Enjoy!

**Chapter Five: The Hogwarts Express**

Dursley dropped them off at Kings Cross Station early on the morning of the first. Petunia fussed over the twins, smoothing Harry’s hair and smartening the lines of Henry’s light jacket. Dudley, for his part, actually looked sad to see them go, though he tried to hide the light quivering of his lip by frowning severely at them.

After bidding farewell to their relatives, whom they fully expected to never have to see again, the boys made their way into the station with their tickets clutched in their hands to find platforms nine and ten. Snape had told them to walk through the barrier between these, but upon arriving there they found that there was more than one red brick barrier separating one side of the platform from the other.

“It figures,” Henry muttered with disgust.

They wandered closer to the first of three barriers and Harry kept watch while Henry casually leaned against it to see if an invisible entrance might be hidden there. After a moment, he grabbed Harry and shook his head and they moved to the middle one. As they approached the wall, a crowd of red-headed children being ushered by a middle-aged woman swarmed in from the other side.

“Packed with Muggles, of course!” she said under her breath.

The twins, realizing that this was a wizarding family on their way to the platform they were looking for, followed along in their wake as they approached the opposite side of the barrier they had already tried. Henry hit himself in the forehead as he realized the mistake they had made in not checking to make sure either side of the barrier wasn’t the entrance.

“All right, all right. You first, Percy.” The eldest of the red-headed boys took his trolley and rushed towards the wall, disappearing just as he should have hit it. The mother ushered a pair of twins through next and then there was just a boy about the same age as Harry and Henry, and a girl a bit younger who remained by her mother’s side without any luggage.

“We’d best ask, don’t you think?” Harry whispered.

Nodding, Henry stepped forward and tugged on the sleeve of the woman’s dress. “Excuse me, could you tell us how to get onto the platform?”

“Oh! Dears, I didn’t see you there!” The woman put her hand against her heart as though she had received a great shock. “Is this your first time at Hogwarts? Ron is new this year too.” She gestured towards the remaining boy who looked at them with a shy smile.

“Yes, m’am,” they answered in unison.

“Not to worry about the platform. Just walk straight at the barrier between nine and ten. Best do it at a bit of a run if you’re nervous. Go on before Ron, both of you.” She shooed them towards the solid presence of the brick wall.

Taking a deep breath, Harry charged bravely forward with his trolley, Henry right on his heels. The wall came closer and closer and he squeezed his eyes shut just before he hit it, only to peek them open again on the other side. A wonderful view met him as he caught sight of the scarlet red engine of the Hogwarts Express. Dozens of cars followed behind the main engine, stretching to the other end of the platform in a long line of emerald green pierced by gold-framed windows. A crowd of students and parents seeing them off swamped the edge of the platform.

Behind them the other boy their age careened through the archway with his own trolley, stopping to gawk at the train himself. His mother followed a moment later with his little sister, immediately trying to straighten ‘Ronald’s’ clothing and wipe a smudge of dirt off of his nose.

“Let’s, er… find a compartment, then.” Henry mumbled, uncomfortable since he and Harry were the only ones without parents to see them off.

They passed an awkward boy who had the slightly pudgy look of baby fat still on his face, telling an older woman who was most likely his grandmother that he seemed to have misplaced someone named ‘Trevor’.

“Oh, Neville,” she answered, with the long-suffering tones of someone who has been on the edge of patience for untold years.

The twins entered the very first car after the engine and began making their way down the train, peering into compartment after compartment to find an empty one. They looked into one, seeing the boy from Madame Malkin’s, Draco Malfoy, sitting with several tough-looking boys and a simpering blond girl who sneered at them as though they were pressing their noses against the glass and making ghastly faces at her. At last, almost at the end of the train, they found one empty compartment and promptly shoved their belongings inside to rest in the corners, placing the cages containing Serash and the owl Harry had named Hedwig onto the rack overhead.

They had just settled down into their seats opposite one another when the door opened to admit Ron, who looked at them sheepishly before asking, “Do you, er, mind if I sit here? Everywhere else is full.”

They shook their heads and Ron hesitated for a moment before sitting beside Henry. His gaze skittered across the scars on both of their cheeks before settling on the twisting fingers he kept in his lap. An uncomfortable silence descended on the compartment for several long minutes.

The door slid open again to reveal Ron’s twin brothers. “Hey, Ron. Listen, we’re going down to the middle of the train. Lee’s got a giant tarantula down there.”

“Right,” mumbled Ron.

The red-headed twins turned their attention to Harry and Henry. “Hello! More twins?” They exchanged a gleeful look, “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. I’m Fred Weasley!” The first twin bowed flamboyantly while the other said, “And I’m George Weasley! And you are?”

Blinking owlishly, Henry answered, “Harry and Henry Potter.”

“Potter!?” all three Weasley’s exclaimed.

“Er… yes?”

Ron stared openly at their scars, now. “So that’s where You-Know-Who…?”

“Ronald!” the Weasley twins exclaimed, sounding remarkably like their mother.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, blushing nearly the same color as his hair.

“We don’t remember it, you know,” Harry blurted.

“Just lots of green light,” Henry added.

“Right then,” Fred said.

“We’re off,” said George.

“Bye,” mumbled Ron and the twins disappeared from the doorway, clicking it shut behind them.

Another lengthy silence ensued before Harry asked, curiously, “Are all your family wizards?”

Looking up, Ron seemed relieved that his earlier words had not ruined everything after all. “Yes, though I think mum’s got a second cousin who’s an accountant. We don’t talk about him.”

“So you must know loads of magic already!” Henry said, excited.

“Mostly just housework spells,” Ron blushed, “Mum doesn’t cast much else. And dad uses some complicated stuff when he’s messing with Muggle things. I haven’t been able to catch any of those.”

“Muggle things?” Harry asked, confused.

“Yeah, he… er…” Ron couldn’t figure out how to explain for a moment, “I don’t know what any of it is, but he likes Muggle gadgets. Taking them apart, fixing them. Tinkering, really. Mum hates it. He works for the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office in the Ministry. She’s always afraid that something he messes with is going to get him in trouble.”

“It must be nice having such a big family.” Harry sighed.

“Five brothers and a sister,” Ron said glumly, “Hand-me-down clothes, books, wands, pets. We have to share everything.”

The compartment door slid open, revealing the pale and narrow face of Draco Malfoy. His face twisted into a sneer when he saw the Potters sitting with Ron, but before he could speak Henry snorted derisively and started berating the Weasley boy sitting beside him.

“Try wearing the worn-out whale-sized clothes of your cousin. Never having enough to eat. Sleeping in a cupboard under the stairs. Sharing a cot barely wider than you are with your brother and taking turns with punishments so that neither of you gets too worn out. You’re lucky that your family loves you just as much as your brothers and sister. That’s worth more than any object or possession you could ever hope to own.”

Ron became paler and paler with every word, and even Draco standing in the doorway looked thoughtfully embarrassed. But Harry was incensed.

“Hen, that’s not fair! Ron hasn’t been in the situations we’ve been in. He has no reason to realize how lucky he is to have a family, brothers and a sister who love him and want to keep him, even when they might not be able to provide for him as well as they, and he, might like! I don’t know what I would have done without you over the years, and I’m sure Ron would feel the same about his family if he thought about it.”

Henry gave an ugly sneer. “I have no interest in making friends with someone who can’t see and be thankful for the things he has.” Turning, he made for the compartment door to leave, only to stop as he realized that Draco was still standing there, shuffling guiltily from foot to foot.

“I have to admit,” the pale haired boy said after a few seconds, “that the conditions of your childhood surprise me. But I have always understood the value of parents who love and care for me.” Ron snorted from within the room and Draco glared balefully in his direction. “And I came here with the intention of making friends. If you’ll have me.” He stuck out his hand and waited patiently for Henry to make a decision.

It only took a moment. The elder Potter twin shook hands with the Malfoy heir and smiled. “I would be glad to be your friend, Draco.”

“Hen, you can’t!” Harry protested.

“Why not?” Henry asked, puzzled.

“He’s just like Dudley! Spoiled and self-centered and a bully. And Ron hasn’t done anything wrong! How can you be friends with someone like him?”

“On the contrary, Harry. I don’t see how you can be friends with him.”

“So, what are we supposed to do? Try to all sit here and make friends and end up fighting with each other?”

“As I said before, I have no intentions of making friends with someone like Ronald.” The Weasley boy flinched, turning an angry red color. “And since you can’t seem to get past Draco’s façade, I see only one solution.”

“What?” Harry asked, an icy feeling settling in the pit of his stomach.

“We shall simply not be friends with each other’s friends,” Henry said softly. “Which means we won’t be spending much time together at school, unless we’re all in the same House, which I doubt.”

“What!” Harry breathed. “But, Hen…”

“Goodbye, Harry,” his brother answered.

He and Draco quickly left the compartment and Harry imagined them, sitting with those thick-set toughs and the blond girl sneering at him as he tried to get near his twin. “But we’ve never been apart,” he mumbled to the empty air.

“Harry?” Turning, he saw Ron sitting there and looking ashamed. “Was all that my fault?”

Sitting with a thump back into his seat, Harry said, “No. I always knew Hen and I were different, but I didn’t think we’d ever go separate ways. I never thought he would want to. We’re twins.”

Ron was silent for some time before he stood and came to sit beside his new friend (however badly made). “You know, if there’s one thing I’ve learned with Fred and George as my brothers, it’s that twins might look exactly the same, but they’re both distinctly different people. I think… well, I think your brother might be a Slytherin once we finally get to being Sorted at Hogwarts.”

“And what about me?” Harry whispered, never dreaming that Hogwarts, his salvation, might be the dividing force that he and Henry had been dreading all their lives.

“Can’t say, really. There’s four houses, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. All my family have been Gryffindors, they’re supposed to be brave. Hufflepuffs are loyal, Ravenclaws smart, and Slytherins cunning. But Slytherins have a bit of a bad reputation. Every dark wizard there’s ever been was a Slytherin, the ones that went to Hogwarts, anyway.”

“You don’t think my brother will end up like that, do you?” Harry whispered.

“Nah! He was almost killed by You-Know-Who, same as you. Personally, I’m hoping he’ll be a good influence on all the kids in that house who are the children of Death Eaters.”

“What are Death Eaters?” Harry asked.

“Blimey! I forgot you were raised by Muggles, so you wouldn’t know. Death Eaters are basically the members of You-Know-Who’s army. Dark wizards and witches who do his bidding. They’ve done horrible things, when the Dark Lord was still around.”

“They weren’t captured?”

“A lot of them were, but some—like Malfoy’s parents—claimed to be under the Imperius Curse. That’s a spell that controls someone’s mind and makes them do the will of the caster,” he explained before Harry could ask.

“Sounds like whatever Dumbledore cast on my relatives,” Harry muttered.

“No way!” Ron exclaimed. “First of all, you’ve _met_ Dumbledore? But besides that, he would never cast Imperius on someone. It’s some of the darkest magic there is! You can be sent to Azkaban—the wizard prison— just for casting it!”

“Well he did something.” Harry sighed. “I don’t know what to do about Hen. I can’t… I won’t let him push me away just because of our friends. Maybe I’ll just give him some time to realize he misses me.”

Ron gave him a doubtful look that Harry didn’t notice. “All right, mate, but don’t be surprised if it doesn’t work.”

They wiled away the rest of the trip wondering about the castle, and then playing with Chocolate Frog cards and other candies when the witch with the cart came by. Henry did much the same with his new friends, though he played other wizarding games that the others (who introduced themselves as Crabbe, Goyle, and Parkinson) had brought from home.

At last, just as it was getting dark outside of the train, Henry returned to the compartment and all three boys awkwardly put on their black robes as they prepared to depart. To Harry’s relief, it seemed that his brother was going to stay with them instead of going back to find Draco and his other new friends.

They exited the train and followed the booming voice of Hagrid, whom they had met in Gringott’s the month before, to a small fleet of boats on the edge of a smooth black lake. The three of them clambered into one, joined by the boy named Neville from the platform. As they glided across the surface of the water, Hagrid called out, “Y’ll be getting yer first view of the castle in a minute!”

The boats smoothly propelled themselves around a bend in the shoreline and there before them was the most incredible sight. A huge castle rose up into the night sky, golden moonlight reflecting off of the hundreds of windows. The whole structure seemed as though it should teeter back and forth, it was so strangely built. Layer upon layer of floors rose up, only to be suddenly punctured by a tower or, quite near them, a round shape that looked almost exactly like a rook from a giant chess set.

Harry and Ron exchanged a bespelled glance and said in unison, “Wicked.”

Before long, they found themselves ushered into the Great Hall by a very stern looking witch with horn-rimmed spectacles. Four long tables spread with golden cutlery were placed below a fifth table that was on a short dais at the front of the room, near the door where they entered. The ceiling was dark and star dusted, the moon a sickle of white barely peeking into the far corner of the room.

“When I call your names, you will sit on the stool and put on the hat to be sorted into your houses.” The stern witch, who was introduced as Professor McGonagal, Head of Gryffindor House and Deputy Headmistress, pulled out a fat scroll and began to read.

Many girls and boys were called as Harry listened. The first that he recognized was the soft-faced boy named Neville from the platform who was clutching a large green toad with both hands, causing him to fumble as he put the hat on.

It took quite a long time for him to be sorted, but at last the hat called out, “Gryffindor!”

Next was Draco, Henry’s new friend. Harry was not in the least surprised when the hat declared him a, “Slytherin,” within moments of touching his head. He was very worried about them being separated, though.

Several more names were called, and then it was Harry’s turn. Despite being the younger twin, his name came first alphabetically. He wished that could be changed, as he’d much rather try to convince the hat to let him stay with his brother, but there was nothing for it.

Loud gasps and whispers hailed him as he walked up to the hat. People began to crane their necks to see him and in turn his brother still standing in line. Thankfully, he soon took a seat on the stool and the hat was placed on his head, effectively blocking their peering eyes from his view.

“Well, what do we have here? A good mind, yes. A willingness to prove yourself, very loyal to your brother, aren’t you? So where shall I put you?”

Harry listened with trepidation for the hat to make her verdict.

“You could be great in Slytherin, you know, but I don’t think your temperament really suits that house. Better be Gryffindor!” The last word was shouted to the room at large and the second table from the left erupted into cheers, Ron’s twin brothers bragging to everyone that “they got one of the Potters!”

But as Harry sat down beside a girl with very bushy brown hair among the other Gryffindor first years, he watched his brother worriedly. That sinking feeling was back in the pit of his stomach.

“Potter, Henry!” McGonagall called. Henry stepped forward, not a single movement betraying any nervousness he might be feeling. The hat settled over his eyes, and Harry imagined the conversation that might be occurring beneath that broad brim.

“Quite intelligent, you’ve always outshone poor Harry, haven’t you? And such logic and cunning! Why, I couldn’t think to place you anywhere but Slytherin!”

Harry’s daydream came to a close with an abrupt crash as the hat at the front of the room echoed his own thought. Henry removed the hat, dashingly handing it back to McGonagall, and then made his way to the Slytherin table to sit beside Draco Malfoy without so much as glancing at his twin.

Harry’s eyes followed him, willing his brother to look at him and show that he shared some of the disappointment and worry that he now felt. But Henry began to talk and laugh with his new friends. Even Ron’s sorting into Gryffindor did little to cheer Harry up that night. He followed Percy Weasley, one of their prefects, up to the common room in a trudge, not even noticing the paintings or suits of armor that he passed. It didn’t even matter that we would likely become horribly lost in the morning. He just wanted his brother back. And he wanted him back the way he was when they lived together at the Dursleys. A little slice of Vernon’s bellow or Petunia’s screech would have meant the world to him right then.

Late that night, safely ensconced behind the curtains of his bed, Harry cried himself to sleep.

And down in the depths of the dungeon, Henry wondered if his little brother was all right. But then he remembered the freckle-faced menace known as Ronald Weasley, and he was sure that Harry had forgotten all about him. Henry fell asleep still nursing the anger he felt at losing his brother to the foolish Gryffindors in the tower upstairs.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six: Explorations**

The next morning, Henry awoke with the other boys in his dormitory and joined them in the loo for showers and other ablutions. He snickered quietly as he watched Draco meticulously slicking down his thin blond hair and joined Crabbe, Goyle, Nott, and Zabini in some good-natured jostling for the other three mirrors above the sinks.

There was nothing to be done about his own messy black hair, of course, so he returned to the room and began gathering supplies for the first day of classes the next day (term this year would begin on a Sunday, so the students had the chance to relax the first weekend in the school.) Just as he was bending over his trunk for the last time, rustling around the compartments trying to find his box of quills, a sharp pain stabbed him directly over his heart, causing him to clutch his chest and rub the spot as though it were a sore muscle. An image of Harry suddenly popped into his head and he bit his lip, worried that this was a sign that something had happened to his twin. The pain faded a bit, but remained a low ache that was quite distracting.

Luckily Draco had finally emerged from the bathroom and Henry hustled the boy into his clothes so that they could rush down to the Great Hall for breakfast (and so that Henry could surreptitiously see if Harry was all right).

The walk up from the dungeons was a short one as the Slytherin dorms were actually the closest to the entrance of the castle. The head table was fully populated and Professor Snape stood from his place as his first years trickled in, a thick sheaf of papers in his hands.

Henry glanced across the hall at the Gryffindor table, relieved to see that Harry was sitting there, even if he was picking morosely at his food. As he watched, the other boy turned and pierced him with an identical green gaze and both of them visibly relaxed. The pain that had been gripping him for the last fifteen minutes slowly evaporated away. Was it just because Harry was upset with him that it had happened?

Draco tugged him down onto the bench, which caused him to face away from Harry. Sighing, Henry slid a few bangers onto his plate as well as a spoonful of eggs before digging in. His new friend frowned beside him and thickly buttered a slice of toast then slathered it in jam and placed it on an empty corner of Henry’s plate.

“What’s that for?”

“Eat it. You’re too thin and you need to fatten up a bit,” Draco reprimanded him.

Henry’s eyebrows drew down slightly, but when he had finished the rest of his meal, he did pick up the toast and nibble slowly at it until he had eaten most of it. By that time, Professor Snape had worked his way down the table to the first years and was beginning to pass out schedules to them all.

“Malfoy.” He handed the slip of parchment to the blond boy.

“Potter.” He sneered down at Henry and handed him the next sheet.

“Crabbe.” He moved on down the line.

“We’ve don’t have Potions until Friday!” Draco said, disappointed. “But it’s with Gryffindor anyway. Double period, too.” He groaned.

Henry grinned. “Yeah, but after that we’ve got the rest of the day to ourselves. That should be all right, don’t you think?”

“Prolly just get our homework done, then we can spend the rest of the weekend exploring the castle,” Draco mused.

He laughed. “I like the sound of that, even if it means homework. You don’t think they’ll let us off easy for the first week, do you?”

“Nah. Especially Professor Snape. We’ll have at least a foot or two to write for him, you mark my words.”

Henry dropped the last bit of his toast back onto his plate. “That’s just ruined my appetite, that has. Come on, let’s explore a bit today first.”  
The two boys, sans their dorm mates, made their way out of the great hall and began to wander the halls, getting hopelessly lost and learning their way around in the process.

“What was it like, growing up with Muggles?” Draco asked after they had walked past a tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy for the third time.

Henry stopped, looking up and down the passage they were in and trying to figure out how to get back to the main part of the castle. “Like growing up with anyone, I expect. If you discount the sleeping in a cupboard under the stairs, the starvation, and the verbal abuse.”

“Blimey,” Draco whispered, “I can’t even imagine.”

Henry shrugged and walked back and forth in front of the tapestry a few times, trying to decide which of the corridors on either side of it they hadn’t tried yet. They both looked exactly the same to him. He rubbed his chest for about the millionth time. The pain had come back shortly after he left the great hall.

“Whoa!” Draco cried.

“What?”

The other boy was pointing at the door in the wall opposite the tapestry. “That door just appeared out of nowhere as you walked past.”

Henry frowned. That door looked awfully familiar. He strode forward and turned the old-fashioned brass knob and opened the door to find… his cupboard?

“Why would a broom cupboard appear out of nowhere?” Draco asked. “And why is there a bed in it?” The blond boy ducked his head under the angled doorjamb and turned around in the small space. “Hang on, there’s pictures in here!”

Henry crowded in and looked at the wall by the door. All of he and Harry’s primary school pictures were there, including his twin’s prized artistic masterpiece of the two of them riding a flying motorcycle. “It’s impossible,” he breathed.

“What, what is it?” Draco asked. He had pulled out his wand and cast _Lumos_ to see the pictures better.

“This is our cupboard. This is where I slept with Harry for ten years. These are our pictures, but Harry took them down before we left because Dumbledore promised not to send us back there.”

“But why would it be here, in Hogwarts?”

“I don’t know.” Henry tugged his bottom lip with two fingers. “Budge out, now. I want to try something.” Both boys left the room and he closed the door. It disappeared almost immediately back into the wall. “Now, think of someplace you want to be really badly and walk back and forth in front of the tapestry a few times.”

Draco did as he was told, his forehead creased in concentration. After his third pass, a new door appeared in the wall--an ornately carved wood paneled door. Opening it this time revealed a large and comfortable room with elegant green furniture, a roaring fire, and two steaming cups of hot chocolate waiting on a coffee table in the middle of the arrangement.

“Is this somewhere in your house?” Henry asked.

“No, I was thinking of the Slytherin common room. But this looks loads better.” The pureblood waltzed in and settled into one of the chairs, grabbing one of the mugs and taking a cautious sip. “It’s delicious, Henry! Come see!”

Henry closed the door and joined his friend in the opposite arm chair, taking the second mug for himself. Looking around, he asked, “What, _exactly_ , were you thinking about?”

Draco shrugged. “Just that I was tired and would like to go back to the comfort of the common room and have a nice cup of hot chocolate.” He raised his mug in a toast.

“Then that means, it doesn’t show you places that actually exist, it gives you whatever you need at that moment in time. Whatever you’re thinking of that you really need.”

His friend frowned. “But why did you need the cupboard?”

Henry looked away. “The cupboard was our safe place in that house. I’ve been feeling kind of strange since this morning. I’ve got this ache that just won’t go away.” He rubbed his chest to show Draco what he meant. It seemed to be growing stronger every minute.

“Then let’s go, you should head to the hospital wing and make sure it’s nothing serious.”

“The hospital wing? I don’t want to be poked and prodded on my first day in the castle!”

But Draco wouldn’t take no for an answer and was soon dragging Henry away from the magic room and back towards what he hoped was the rest of the castle and the hospital wing.

-o-0-o-

Harry’s morning had not been going particularly well. He had awoken with a strange ache over his heart and the sense that he needed to see Hen right away. But of course, once he’d gotten Ron out of bed, the redhead only had breakfast on his mind and kept trying to reassure Harry that Henry would come to the great hall and he could see him there.

Well, Ron was right, and while the feeling dissipated when he saw Henry, it didn’t make Harry feel any better. The feeling was so strange and weird, nothing like he’d ever felt before. He watched from a distance as Hen and his friend left the great hall and was somehow not surprised when the ache came back a few minutes later.

Once Ron had finished his second helping, the two set out to explore some of the castle. They chose, strangely enough, the dungeons. (And incidentally, a certain bushy-haired young witch decided to follow them.)

And so it was that when the twins were at opposite ends of the castle, Henry in the seventh floor corridor and Harry in the deepest, dankest corner of the dungeons, the achy feeling they’d been fighting all morning suddenly tripled in strength. Harry doubled over and screamed--scaring Ron so bad he almost pissed his pants. While on the seventh floor, Draco barely managed to catch Henry as he cried out, clutching his chest and feeling his legs give out beneath him. It was only because of their friends (Ron was joined by the bushy-haired witch and they mostly carried Harry to the hospital, while Draco had the presence of mind to cast a levitation spell that by all rights he shouldn’t have known yet) that they made it to the hospital wing at all, and Madame Pomfrey was beside herself as she tried to figure out why both of the Potter twins were screaming at the same time.

Dumbledore swept in as the mediwitch silenced them to protect their vocal cords and everyone in the room shuddered to see the boys silently screaming. The Headmaster waved his wand over them a few times, and seemed particularly interested in the scars on their cheeks. But he frowned a moment later and told Madame Pomfrey to, “Place them on the same bed and join their hands together.”

“Headmaster, I really don’t think that would be wise in their current state. Not to mention that this is a hospital ward and patients simply cannot…”

He ignored her tirade and levitated Henry into Harry’s bed and placed their hands together himself. The silent screams stopped immediately.

“My word…” she whispered.

“Run along now,” the Headmaster told Ron, Draco, and the witch who had identified herself as Hermione Granger, “They’ll be just fine now, but they need their rest. I think they’ll be fit enough for classes tomorrow.”

The three filed out of the room as the mediwitch laid into Dumbledore again, “Headmaster, this is _my_ hospital and _I_ say _when_ and _if_ patients may leave.”

“With all due respect, Madame Pomfrey, do you have any idea what’s wrong with them?” Dumbledore asked, a sparkle in his eyes.

“No.” Pomfrey snapped, “But you must, since you got them to stop screaming.”

“Then perhaps you should let me be the judge of whether they will be fit for classes tomorrow or not.”

She huffed and stomped out of the room and into her office, slamming the door behind her.

The Headmaster smiled and turned to the twins on the bed. “Enervate,” he said, calmly waving his wand.

The boys awoke and looked at one another in confusion. Henry tried to speak first, but no sound came out.

“Ah,” Dumbledore said, “ _Finite Incantatem_.”

“What happened? What’s going on?” Harry asked.

“It would seem that something a bit untoward has happened to you.”

“And?” Henry asked.

The Headmaster smiled. “I cannot say for sure without finding the correct spell to test for it, but I believe the problem is that your hearts, your very souls, have been bound together.”

“WHAT?” both boys cried.

“By who?” Henry asked.

“By Voldemort.”

There was a long moment of dead silence as they digested that.

“You mean, the night he attacked us? The night we somehow lived? But how? Why?” Harry cried.

“Oh, do not mistake me, boys. It was almost certainly a complete accident on his part. Though it does answer some of my questions from that night, and raise a few new ones.” The Headmaster looked pensive, troubled even.

“Well, how do we fix it? I assume this is what has been causing us to be in pain all day?”

Dumbledore shook his head. “It is as irreversible as a soul bond. Bound to one another for the rest of your lives, and clearly incapable of being separated by great distance for any length of time. We will simply have to find a way to cope.”

Harry looked at his brother and gave him a half-smile that was reluctantly returned. “Truce?”

Henry sighed. “Truce.” He smiled indulgently as he suddenly found his vision blocked by a head of tousled black hair and a pair of arms gripping him around the middle for dear life. He looked up to see the Headmaster twinkling at them, a bit of sadness at the back of his eyes. “But Professor, how are we going to make this work? We’re in different houses. We have different schedules. Different friends.”

“Well,” Dumbledore said brightly, “The Sorting Hat has been encouraging me to promote inter-house unity for some time now. Perhaps you two can help be the start of that. For now, rest. I believe that your schedules tomorrow are similar enough that you can attend classes together. I’ll meet with your heads of houses and arrange for a more long-term solution.”

“All right.” They answered, settling back into bed again.

“Good. I’ll have the house elves pop up with some lunch for you in a few moments. And don’t be surprised when the Madame reemerges as soon as I’m gone and runs her own tests. Goodbye for now!”

“Goodbye Professor,” Hen answered.

When he was gone, Harry ventured to ask, “Hen? What’s a house elf?”

His brother shook his head. “No idea.”

The matron of the ward did indeed pop out as soon as the Headmaster had left, demanding an explanation. When she found out they were soul bonded, her face went quite pale and she stopped running her incessant tests immediately. “That does explain things,” she said, smiling at them sadly.

A few moments later, they found out that house elves were tiny little creatures with large eyes and floppy ears that had some sort of weird propensity towards wearing tea towels and were the magic that made the Hogwarts kitchens run. Their delicious lunch was chased by a mild sleeping potion that Pomfrey gave them, saying that they would be awake in time for dinner and that they would then be allowed to leave the hospital wing. Neither of them fought her after that promise.

Several hours later, they followed their noses back down to the great hall and then stopped, unsure if they would be all right sitting at their own tables but also unable to decide which one to pick if they sat together. They were saved by the approach of Professors Snape and McGonagall.

“We have discussed the situation with the Headmaster and have determined that for the time being you will eat meals and share dormitories with the Gryffindors on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, and the Slytherins on Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday and alternate Sundays,” Mcgonagall informed them.

“Classes,” Snape sneered, “For tomorrow will be shared, and after that we will begin trying to determine if the distance between each of your lessons is a problem. If possible, we will simply have you stay near one another when you can and relocate those classes that are too far apart.”

“Well, today’s Sunday.” Harry pointed out. “Which table should we sit at?”

McGonagall smiled. “I suggest that you inform your friends and dorm mates of the situation first and then make your decision.”

“Your things will be moved each day accordingly,” Snape said, and then stalked off.

The Gryffindor head sighed in exasperation. “Go on then, dinner’s just started.”

“It’s all well and good to tell them first, but if we decide now we can tell whoever we’re not spending the night with first and then tell the others as we eat,” Henry suggested.

“Right. Rock, paper, scissors?” Harry asked. It was how they usually decided whose turn it was for Vernon’s newest list of chores.

They went several rounds, but eventually Henry won, which made Slytherin the winner for this Sunday.

“Right.” Harry muttered. “Let’s go tell the Gryffindors.”

They approached the red and gold table and Harry leaned over the far end of it where most of the first years were seated.

“Harry!” Ron cried, “Are you all right? Gave me a right fright when you started screaming like that.” The other first years who knew him clamored for news of his health.

“Listen, mates,” Harry called over them, “I’ve got some bad news. It turns out that Henry and I are bonded to one another. We can’t have too much distance between us or we end up being in pain. So the Professors have decided that we’ll alternate what days we eat and sleep with Gryffindor and Slytherin. I’ll be with you on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday and alternate Sundays with the Slytherins. Hen won for today, so it’s the Slytherins tonight.”

Everyone stared at them, speechless. Finally, Ron spoke. “Blimey, sleeping with the snakes? And a Slytherin sleeping with us? There’s no way that will work!”

“Ron!” Harry snapped, exasperated, “This is me and Hen we’re talking about. It’s not like Malfoy is going to be sleeping in the Gryffindor dorm half the year. It’ll be fine.”

Ron shrugged sheepishly. “Yeah, all right.”

Henry rolled his eyes.

“Good luck, Harry,” Hermione said.

“Thanks, er… do I know your name?” Harry asked.

“Never mind that, come on, I’m starved!” Henry dragged him away and they attempted to explain the same thing to the Slytherins. Draco stared at Harry with something akin to disgust on his face until Henry pointed dug his shoe into the other boy’s shin.

“Sorry,” the Malfoy heir mumbled into his peas.

By the time they made their way down into the dungeons (the Slytherins told Harry that if any other Gryffindors turned up in their dorms because he blabbed the password, they’d eviscerate him) both twins were exhausted. A seventh bed had been added to the first year boy’s dorm and Harry fell into it gratefully, falling asleep moments after he had pulled up the covers.


	7. Week One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are going to start moving very quickly now. I’ve got the groundwork laid, but I’m not actually interested in writing every moment of every year of the twins’ time at Hogwarts. So after this chapter, large gaps of time are going to pass, though the important things will still occur. I hope you’ll understand! Also, you might be amused to know that I created an Excel spreadsheet of every professor’s class schedule for all seven years. XD Anyone who wants to use it, PM me with your email and I’ll send it to you.

**Chapter Seven: Week One**

Harry’s day began with some jostling among the Slytherin boys for the mirrors in the bathroom. Both he and Hen showered and raked a comb haphazardly through their hair. All of Harry’s things had appeared at the end of his bed the night before (he wasn’t sure, but he thought the house elves might be responsible for that) and it took him a few minutes of comparing schedules with his brother to grab all of the things he would need. Henry’s first class was Transfiguration, which Harry didn’t have until the next day. Then Henry would attend Charms with Harry and they would both go to Herbology, though Harry’s class was first and Henry’s was the last period of the day.

“It’s not fair, you know,” Harry told him. “I’ve got a class every morning, and here you are with Tuesdays and Thursdays free until lunch.”

Henry laughed. “Just be thankful you don’t have History after lunch on those days, like me. I’ve heard Binns is the most boring professor in the whole school. And with all that good food, I’m likely to fall asleep.”

All of the first year boys made their way down to the great hall together. Harry hadn’t exactly gotten over his animosity towards Draco Malfoy, but he was at least attempting to tolerate the other boy since they were now going to be living together for an indefinite period of time. Malfoy seemed to be doing the same. And Harry took it as a good sign that Ron had acquiesced to Henry sleeping in their dorm. Perhaps all of them could become friends and it would work out for the best after all.

Well, he thought that until his legs suddenly went all wobbly and he fell flat on his face.

“Draco!” Henry admonished. He bent down to help his brother up. The Malfoy heir was laughing loudly, drawing attention from the other houses flowing past them to enter the great hall.

Harry scowled at his brother’s friend. This meant war.

After Malfoy had set his legs right by reversing the Jelly-Legs Jinx, Harry grabbed his brother’s arm and marched him toward the Gryffindor table. “Come on, it’s Monday. And I don’t want to sit with Malfoy right now anyway.”

“I suppose,” Henry said reluctantly.

The other Gryffindors fell silent as the twins joined them. Henry took this to mean they had been talking about him and sneered nastily at them.

“So how was it?” Ron asked promptly after the twins had snagged some food for themselves.

“How was what?” Henry snapped.

“I wasn’t asking _you_ ,” Ron said. He turned to Harry expectantly.

“What, sleeping with the Slytherins?” Harry asked. The rest of the first years nodded, seeming oblivious to the fuming Slytherin sitting with them. “It was fine. I fell asleep right off, anyway.”

“Oh.” Ron sounded disappointed. “Malfoy didn’t curse you in your sleep, then?”

Harry grimaced. “No, he did that this morning, thanks.”

“It was just a joke,” Henry said, defending his friend.

“Yeah, just like it was a joke when Dudley and his gang would chase us around and beat us up. Just because it was done with magic doesn’t make him any different, Hen.”

His brother frowned. “I’ll talk to him.”

“Thank you. And Ron, don’t go getting any ideas about hexing my brother, all right? I really do want all of us to get along. You too, Hen. I know you’ve been reading up.”

The redhead nodded uncertainly, watching Henry. When the Slytherin nodded, the youngest Weasley seemed to make a decision and held out his hand to the other boy. “I know you don’t like me, but you don’t really have to. Let’s just called a truce, all right? And if Malfoy wants to hang out with us any time, well… I’ll try my best, but I doubt he’ll agree to leave me alone anyway.”

Hen smiled a little and took the proffered hand. “I can live with that. But you know, six generations is a long time to hold a grudge. Do you even remember why it started?”

Ron grinned. “Dad says it’s because my great, great, great, great, great grandmother had an affair with Malfoy’s five-time great grandfather. But just try to get a Malfoy to agree to that.”

The whole table laughed, including Hen, who had already discussed the feud with Draco. Turns out, the Weasley woman had broken Malfoy’s heart by marrying someone else. Now it seemed it was just the principle of the thing. He decided that he would mention it to Harry later and see if they couldn’t patch things up with the two families.

Shortly it was time for double transfiguration for the combined Slytherin and Hufflepuff class. Harry’s head was the instructor for this class, and he was actually looking forward to seeing her teach. Plus, transfiguration sounded pretty cool—turning one thing into something else and all. And Henry had mentioned wizards called Animagi from one of his extra books who could change back and forth from an animal self at will. Harry couldn’t wait to try that.

He was a little disappointed, if he admitted it only to himself, when they started out turning matchsticks into needles. With Hen’s help he managed to get his to start turning silver, but his brother was as brilliant as always and managed to fully transform his own matchstick by the end of the lesson. McGonagall awarded everyone who had managed a partial transformation five points, and ten to Henry and a Hufflepuff named Susan Bones who had both managed a complete transfiguration.

“For class next week I ask you to read the first two chapters of your transfiguration textbooks and to complete the exercises at the end of each section. And trust me, it will become exceedingly apparent during the next class if you do not do your homework,” McGonagall said just before the bell rang.

“You have charms now, right?” Hen asked.

“Yeah, it’s down a corridor on this same floor.”

Henry said goodbye to his year mates and followed Harry to their next class. This one was taught by the diminutive Professor Flitwick, who had to stand on a stack of books behind his desk to see everyone properly. He started them on the levitation charm using feathers for practice. Ron and the girl from the night before, Hermione Granger, sat near the twins and they all began to work together to figure out the charm. Both Hermione and Henry were brilliant at it right off and helped to coach the other two into getting it right. Ron seemed to be getting a little huffy with Hermione, but with someone as smart and nice as Hen to work with, she seemed to lose a little of her know-it-all attitude very quickly, making her much more tolerable. Harry smiled up at the four feathers floating above them, feeling like he was making the friends he had always wished for. Even Hen seemed to be enjoying the Gryffindor’s presence, and they had relaxed around him to a certain extent.

Finally the bell rang. They were disappointed when Flitwick didn’t distribute any points, giving them a chapter to read and setting a one foot essay on the uses of levitation charms instead, but they filed out anyway. Ron was leading the way and caroling about lunch time.

“Two whole hours to eat,” Hermione complained. “I’d much rather get to Herbology. I’m looking forward to working with the plants outside.”

“Yeah, but it gives us some time to start reading those chapters we’ve been assigned.” Henry reminded her.

“Yes, but I read all of the books over the summer!” she laughed. “Though I suppose the review would still do me some good.”

They ate and talked and passed the two hours much more quickly than any of them had anticipated. The twins followed the little group down to the greenhouses, relishing the warm end of summer weather. Herbology was taught by Professor Sprout, a round and happy woman who was also the head of Hufflepuff house. For their first class, she told them all about the properties of a plant with tiny pinky-purple flowers called fluxweed. Henry earned five points for Slytherin for knowing that it was used in Polyjuice Potion and Hermione shared her knowledge that it was closely related to mint and an endangered plant in the muggle world.

As they were leaving the class, the passed the Slytherins and Ravenclaws on their way to their own Herbology lesson.

“At last!” Ron groaned, stretching languidly. “So, what should we do for the rest of the day?”

“I intend to do the homework.” Hermione and Henry said nearly simultaneously. They smiled and giggled at one another.

Ron rolled his eyes. “Homework? But it’s the first day. It can wait until the weekend, can’t it?”

Harry felt torn, “Well, as much as I hate to admit it, getting it over with now would mean having the weekend free to do something more fun. We’ve got an hour until dinner. Let’s go to the library for that long, at least.”

His friend groaned. “Fine, but you owe me Harry.”

The four kids made their way up to the library on the third floor and claimed a table in a hidden away corner to do their work. Ron decided that reading for charms would be easier, since there was only one chapter and Madame Pince, the librarian, would skin them alive if they cast any of the transfiguration practice spells in the library. Everyone readily agreed with that and within an hour they had all finished and Hermione and Henry, at least, had begun their essays.

When the bell for the end of the last period rang, they all started to pack their things away to head down to dinner. Hermione told them all to go ahead, though, since she wanted to look up a cross-reference for her essay.

Henry was feeling amazingly content as he sat with the Gryffindors and eventually followed them up to their dormitory. There were only five boys in Harry’s dorm, so his made the sixth four-poster in the room. His things had been brought up the same as Harry’s had been the night before. It was strange, he thought, that he felt so comfortable with a house that was supposed to be diametrically opposed to his own. He supposed that it was because they were so warm and welcoming. Grudgingly he admitted to himself that it was the perfect place for Harry, though they both fit quite well with the cool and calm support of the Slytherins as well.

He climbed into the bed next to his brother and pulled the curtains closed. Despite the circumstances that had placed them in this situation, he thought that they could both live with it. And maybe the Potters would somehow end the thousand years of rivalry between their houses.

-o-0-o-

Tuesday morning they ate with the Slytherins and skipped Harry’s transfiguration lesson. They spent the morning in the common room reading and hanging out with the students who also had the morning off. Professor Snape came in just before Harry was due to go to History of Magic and pulled the twins aside.

“Professor McGonagall and I spoke with the Headmaster again yesterday evening and we have decided that, instead of taxing you both by trying to determine what distance is tolerable, we will just combine your schedules so that your classes are divided. Here are your new sections.” He handed them both identical slips of paper, except for their names. “However, if you feel that you are not grasping something properly, the Headmaster is going to announce to all the students tonight that, as long as they don’t have a regular class that interferes, they may attend the opposite section of a class to repeat a lesson. The same goes for you, so keep your original time tables. A section schedule will be posted in every common room by tonight.” Nodding to them, he left.

“Guess that means that we just keep doing what we have been,” Henry said, studying the new schedule. “Hey, look! No more History after lunch!”

They left the common room to attend history of magic with Harry’s house before lunch. Binns was every bit as boring as their sources had claimed and it was with sluggish spirits that they joined the Slytherins again for lunch.

“Let’s go to the library again.” Henry said once his friends had left for their own History lesson. He had wisely given his notes to Draco and told his friend to fill in anything he had missed. Between the two of them, they might actually have a complete enough set of notes to pass the class. And of course, they would make copies for anyone who cared to have them.

The library was pretty much abandoned at that hour. A few of the older students who had free periods were looking up extra sources for their first essays of the year. Both twins were stunned at the length of the scrolls being written.

“What should we work on?” Harry asked.

“I did some of the transfiguration reading this morning, but I haven’t tried the exercises yet. Why don’t you read the first chapter and then we can do the rest together? There’s something I want to look up.”

“Okay.”

Henry wandered into the aisles of the library, breathing in the dusty scent of the old books. He loved libraries. He could happily live here among all these old tomes and never reemerge. And as if sensing a fellow book spirit in him, Madame Pince appeared at the end of the aisle he was perusing and asked him if she could help him find anything.

“Yes, actually. Are there any books on soul bonds that aren’t Restricted?”

She led him to an adjacent aisle and pulled out a book called _Ancient and Moste Magyckal Rituals._

“Rituals?” he asked.

“It’s an advanced branch of Ancient Runes, which you can choose to begin studying in your third year. This book might be a bit complex for your current knowledge, but it has the most comprehensive study of ritual bonds out of all the books in this section.”

“But I don’t understand. What do soul bonds have to do with rituals?”

“I assumed that you knew.” Madame Pince looked at him with confusion. “Soul bonds are most commonly associated with wedding rituals.”

He blanched and took the book without another word. “Thank you, Madame Pince. I appreciate your help.”

She blushed slightly. “You’re quite welcome, Mr. Potter.”

He returned to the table where Harry was sitting. It looked like his brother was about halfway through the chapter and completely absorbed. Opening the book on rituals, he studied the table of contents. There were rituals for newborns, for deaths, and for weddings as well as many other wizarding events. He turned to the section on weddings and began reading.

 _Wedding rituals are most commonly used between pureblood families, especially for arranged marriages. The most common of these rituals is one that contains stipulations preventing either party from seeking divorce, but not preventing them from having affairs or harming one another. Such rituals have fallen out of favor in recent times, but were originally intended to keep marriage alliances from being withdrawn._

 _On the other end of this spectrum is a soul bond. Wizards and witches who underwent this bond were bound together by their very souls for all eternity. Incapable of hurting one another, or even being out of each others presence for any period of time, only couples with the strongest feelings of love for one another underwent this ritual. It was declared to be dark magic by the Ministry of Magic in 1653 because it tampered with the very fiber of a person’s soul, literally splitting and recombining them into one person._

 _The last couple to have undergone this ritual before its banning was Amelia and Rigel Black in 1639. Written accounts from this time claim that they were able to communicate with each other mentally and read each other’s thoughts without the use of Legilimency. Both were also said to share any magical abilities they possessed, such as Animagi transformations, a Seer’s Sight, or Parseltongue, the ability to speak with snakes._

Well, that answered his question all right. So essentially he and Harry were married. Great. He was married to his brother at the age of one year. It had to be a record (not to mention highly illegal). But there were several things he didn’t understand, like what Legilimency was, or a Seer’s Sight, or why splitting souls was considered dark magic. Deciding to try his luck, he went back to Madame Pince to return the book and ask some questions.

“Madame Pince?” she looked up from a suspiciously muggle-looking paperback (he would bet ten galleons it was a muggle romance). “I’ve finished with the book you found me, but I have some more questions.”

“Go ahead and ask, then. If I don’t know I’m sure we can find a book that does.”

“Well, this book mentions a couple who were soul-bound and could read each other’s minds without Legilimency and shared magical abilities. But what is Legilimency? And what is a Seer’s Sight? And why is splitting your soul like that considered dark magic?”

She paled a little bit at the last question but seemed to sense that he didn’t actually want to try such magic himself, just that he needed to understand. She could relate, she had been the same way when she was a first year at Hogwarts. “Legilimency is magic that can be used to read another person’s mind. There is an opposing branch, Occlumency, that is used to protect the mind from such advances. Someone who is really good at Legilimency can do so completely undetected. As for a Seer’s Sight, that means someone like Professor Trelawney, who teaches Divination. The Sight is what allows someone to see into the future, or the past, or see present events—it depends on their ability. And for your last question…” she sighed and hesitated.

“Madame Pince, I promise I have no intention of actually trying this ritual. I’m much too young, anyway.” He smiled, it was only a little fib anyway.

“All right. You see, there is a way, using dark magic, to split your soul and place it in an object to protect it. That way, if you die or are killed, you will continue living on because a piece of your soul remains protected on earth. Such objects are called Horcruxes. When the Ministry gained knowledge that dark wizards were making such objects, some of them dying horribly in the process because they did something wrong, they banned any magic that tampered with the human soul.”

“I see. Thank you very much Madame Pince. I think I’m going to go work on my transfiguration homework with my brother now.”

She smiled and watched him walk away, then pulled out a scrap of paper to write a quick note to Dumbledore. She would have to tell him that another student had started asking about soul bonds again. A simple charm and the paper folded itself into a paper airplane and darted out the library doors. She had picked that spell up from her time working in the Ministry archives.

Harry had finished the first chapter and was attempting the first exercise by the time Hen returned.

“Sorry about that, I had something I needed to research,” Henry told him. He had absolutely no intention of sharing the nature of the soul bond with his brother yet. It remained to be seen if it behaved the same way as the wedding ritual soul bond described in the book. There was no sense worrying both of them needlessly.

“No problem, I was just trying the first exercise. It says that we should try envisioning the object we work with transfiguring into something else. So, for a match into a needle, we have to envision each change in order for it to work. But I don’t understand how you determine which way is right.”

“Well, obviously it’s easier to turn the fat end of the match into the loop for the needle.” Hen thought about it for a minute and then said, “When I did it in class yesterday, I just kept repeating the same images in my head over and over again. I would think of the match taking the shape of a needle and then the match taking the color of the needle. Eventually it started to do that, so I envisioned what it was starting to look like turning into the needle and it just changed.”

“Oh! I see. I kept envisioning the match turning into a needle. I didn’t change the way I was thinking about it. We can’t practice here, and it’s almost time for DADA anyway. Want to try the transfiguration after dinner with the rest of the Slytherins?” Harry gathered up his books and waited for Hen to join him.

“Sure. Let’s get to class, then.”

DADA was combined Slytherin and Gryffindor, so their sections hadn’t been changed. It was the same for Potions. Both of them had been looking forward to this class, but it ended up being a bit of a joke. Professor Quirrell was clearly too afraid of his subject to effectively teach it. Henry also kept feeling strange all through the double period, the scar on his cheek twinging every time the Professor looked at him. Harry, for some reason, seemed fine.

They spent the evening finishing their Charms essays for the next day and practicing with their matches. Even Harry could turn his into a needle by the end of the night. Hen’s explanation had really helped him to visualize properly, and the other exercises in the book were helpful too.

Wednesday was a repeat of Charms and Herbology. They turned in their essays, learned about Placement Charms by charming square stickers onto a grid, and in Herbology studied the properties of daisies.

Thursday brought a repeat of History and Henry once again traded notes with Draco. They already had a list of people interested in the project, and another pair from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff who had volunteered their own notes to round out the effort. Between all four houses, they had a near transcription of Binn’s extremely boring and extremely sleep inducing lectures.

That night was the first Astronomy class for Slytherin, which Harry joined. Each class would go the Astronomy tower on a different night at midnight and study the stars with Professor Sinistra.

Friday brought the end of the week and the class that Draco, Harry, and Henry had been looking forward to the most after DADA. Professor Snape started the double Potions lesson with a bang, storming into the dungeon classroom dramatically and immediately starting his lecture. He threw out several basic questions from the first few chapters of the textbook, to see who had actually read ahead. Henry thought it was so he could gauge who had an actual interest in the subject without waiting to see who blew things up.

After learning some very basic skills when it came to slicing, dicing, chopping, grinding, smashing, and most importantly _following directions_ , Snape set them into pairs to making a potion to cure boils. Perhaps unwisely, Ron and Malfoy were paired together, while he kept Harry and Henry together. The family rivalry clearly extended directly into the classroom as they elbowed each other for space at the table and Malfoy berated Ron for his badly crushed snake fangs.

“Look at them, Weasley! There are still little chunks left. They have to be completely powdered!”

“Well it doesn’t say that in the instructions, how was I supposed to know!”

“It’s common sense, Weasley! Have you even read any of the textbook?”

“Of course not! I assumed it would be assigned for homework, not that we’d be brewing the first day!”

“It’s a double period, you idiot! Of course we’re not going to spend two hours reading aloud like primary schoolers!”

By this time they were bellowing at each other and Snape had come to stand directly behind them, a disgusted sneer on his face. As Ron drew breath for another volley, he gripped both of them by the neck of their robes and pulled them bodily from their seats. “If you cannot sit through my class _quietly_ then I suggest you leave.”

Ron immediately seized his books, shoved them into his bag and left. Draco, however, looked up at his Professor contritely. “I’m sorry Professor. Weasley’s and Malfoy’s never seem to get along. Is it all right if I stay and finish the potion by myself?”

The dark-haired professor considered him for a long moment before nodding once. Draco promptly sat and continued preparing his ingredients, throwing his slugs into the cauldron and adding thirty milliliters of water to set them stewing while he weighed his nettles.

Across the room, Hermione was working with Neville, who seemed to be absolutely terrified of the Potions professor. His hands were shaking as he added things to the cauldron at Hermione’s instruction.

The twins, used to working with one another, worked as a fluid team. Harry found himself enjoying the calming process of preparing the ingredients and watching them combine in the cauldron. He had hated cooking for the Dursley’s, but cooking itself was rather fun.

The bell rang at the end of the period and they ladled a sample of their potion into a vial to hand in to Snape. He gave them a slight twitch of his lips when he saw theirs, which they took to mean they had done well.

“Finally, the end of the first week.” Henry sighed, collapsing into a chair in the Gryffindor common room after lunch.

“Yeah. And now we have a whole weekend to explore.” Harry grinned at his brother.

“Oh, no you don’t!” Hen cried. “Come on, let’s finish our homework for next week first.”

Sighing, Harry complied. Ron and Hermione soon joined them, and together they made the weekend a free one.


	8. Halloween

**Chapter Eight: Halloween**

After two months of sharing meals and dormitories, Henry had become good friends with many of the Gryffindors. He and Harry’s friends had encountered a three headed dog in the forbidden corridor on the third floor the first weekend after classes. They figured something was being hidden in the school and the dog was guarding it. The encounter had strengthened his relationships with the others. He still had issues with Ron, but at least he could stand to be in the same room and even study with him.

When it came to Harry and the Slytherins, on the other hand, little progress had been made. Draco continued to slide subtle jinxes and hexes past his friend, despite Henry’s discussions otherwise. And due to the extra studying time Henry imposed on his brother, Harry had been able to trade blows with Draco spell for spell. It came to the point where Henry decided to enlist some help when it came to ending the dispute. Being the Slytherin he was, of course, he had ulterior motives for getting Draco to like Gryffindors. First and foremost of which was Ronald Weasley.

The last Friday before Halloween, Henry approached Professor Snape after class. “Sir? I have… a favor to ask of you.”

He received a raised eyebrow in response.

“You see… er… it’s about Draco and my brother.”

“I see. You wish me to punish Mr. Malfoy for the petty tricks he has been playing on your Gryffindor half?” There was a dangerous glint in the man’s eyes.

“Not at all, sir. I’ve already tried to get him to stop. Getting you to punish him would just make him mad at me. Actually what I had in mind was a sort of… exchange program.”

The second eyebrow joined the first. Henry took that to mean the Professor was listening.

“Here’s what I think…”

Ten minutes later Henry was on his way to lunch with the Gryffindors, secure in the knowledge that the two feuds that were the most troubling to him would be well on their way to mended by Halloween.

“What did you need to talk to Snape about?” Ron asked as he joined them at the table. Lunch wasn’t due to start for another forty minutes, so they were gathered around working on various assignments, chatting, and reading. Ron and Harry were playing wizard’s chess, which Harry was still rather hopeless at. Henry had to hand it to the red head, he was a good strategist.

“Just a question about the essay for next week. I wasn’t sure if he wanted the properties of mint or catnip for the Deflating Draught. They’re interchangeable in that potion.”

“Really?” Hermione asked, making a note of it in her book which was open to the potion. “I’ll have to look that up.”

“Yeah, they’re from the same family of herbs.” Henry proceeded to explain why either could be used.

“Checkmate!” Ron crowed just before lunch was due to be served.

Harry groaned. “I’m never going to beat you at this game, Ron. I don’t know why you make me play. And these pieces hate me.” He prodded one of the pawns with his finger. All of his pieces were brandishing their weapons or shaking their fists at him angrily.

“Don’t worry about it mate. Everyone starts out somewhere. You’re just worse than most.”

Harry glared half-heartedly at him.

“It’s almost time for lunch, let’s clean up, eh?” Dean asked.

Everyone put away their parchment and books. Ron shoved the chess pieces back into the drawers on either side of the board, locking them shut with a quick spell. Both the twins had wondered at that the first time, but Ron had told them a hilarious story about the chess pieces escaping and attacking him in his sleep back when he was first learning the game and sucked just as much as Harry did.

Shortly the golden dishes appeared along with tray after tray of delicious food. Everyone dug in as the other classes poured into the room to join them. Up at the head table, only Snape and Dumbledore were conspicuously absent. Henry hoped that meant that his plan was being put into motion already.

Indeed, just before lunch ended when most people were still lingering and chatting, the missing professors appeared through the faculty door behind the head table. Snape took his seat, grabbing a chocolate biscuit to nibble on nonchalantly. Dumbledore moved to the podium just in front of the table and raised his hands. Those who paid attention to the comings and goings of the teachers shushed their friends and soon the hall was ensconced in silence.

“I have an exciting announcement!” Dumbledore cried. “Due to the success of Henry and Harry Potter matriculating into each other’s houses, I have decided to implement a sort of exchange program. Each week one student from each house will be chosen to trade with a student from another. The goal of this is to end this dreadful house rivalry that results in spells being cast to cause harm to one another and also gives Madame Pomfrey too much work to do trying to fix everyone. The students for this week will be announced at dinner. Pass along the word to anyone who isn’t here for lunch.”

And with that the elderly Headmaster returned to his seat, grabbing a large slice of lemon meringue pie with the appearance of a five year old.

Ron was completely gob smacked. “But, that means…” He paled, looking towards the Slytherin table.

Henry laughed. “But you deal with me, Weasley. Surely it won’t be that bad?”

“Yeah, but you’re absolutely decent compared to Malfoy! What if I get switched with someone like Crabbe and then he tries to murder me in my sleep?”

Harry smiled. “Don’t worry, Ron. Malfoy might try to hex me every other day, but my life has not been endangered while I was sleeping. He hasn’t even tried to hex me during the nights I stay there.” He looked thoughtful as he realized what he had said. Hen smiled. It was already working.

But the other Gryffindor continued to mope for the rest of the day. Finally dinner came around and he was so nervous waiting for the announcement that he barely ate anything. (If one could call the giant slice of steak and kidney pie “barely”.)

Finally Dumbledore stood. Everyone was waiting expectantly for the announcement, so he let them know the first victims without preamble: “The two students who will trade dormitories this week are Ronald Weasley and Draco Malfoy! Starting tomorrow morning, you will eat, sleep, and study with your new house until Halloween night.” And then he sat and finished his treacle tart.

A squeak of despair could be heard from the Gryffindor table while Draco had turned even paler than normal, a bite of custard slowly sliding off his spoon as he stared into space.

Henry just laughed. After a moment of stunned silence, the rest of the first year Gryffindors joined him. Harry was looking at him suspiciously, but otherwise remained silent.

As they made their way up to the Gryffindor tower, Harry pulled him aside. “Did you have anything to do with this?” He didn’t seem angry, so Hen decided to tell the truth.

“I might have put a bee in Snape’s bonnet, yes.”

Harry smiled. “Thanks. I just hope it works out how you think it will.”

Henry nodded fervently. “Me too.”

-o-0-o-

The next day being Saturday, Ron was lucky enough to have Harry and Henry there when he was introduced to the Slytherins. Draco didn’t have that advantage, but it hardly would have helped to have his best friend there to talk to instead of the Gryffindors. Henry made a mental note to congratulate Snape on his timing.

Once basic reintroductions were made, the trio sat with the green and silver table. It was the Slytherins who began talking first. Their starting policy seemed to be to ignore the redhead in their midst. But it served to relieve the tension. Ron expelled a long breath and relaxed enough to spoon some eggs onto his plate.

Henry and Harry had decided the night before that it was up to Ron to break the ice. For the first meal of the first day, things weren’t going too badly yet. The real test would come when classes started on Monday, since the twins wouldn’t be staying with him the whole day and they suspected the teachers would pair the exchanged students with someone from their new house for all lessons.

In the meantime, the Slytherins had pre-arranged plans for the weekend. It was too bad Draco would no longer be able to participate, but he wasn’t essential to the preparations.

Henry and Draco had shared their knowledge of the room on the seventh floor, which they had dubbed the ‘Room of Requirement’, with their Slytherin friends. Henry had told his brother as well, but not the rest of the Gryffindors. He figured it was up to them to find it themselves. But the Slytherins had been planning a party and study session there to get ahead on their work before the Christmas holidays began. It was the kind of thing Henry thought Hermione would enjoy, but he had been forbidden to invite any Gryffs to the room.

Now, though, the presence of one Ronald Weasley was throwing a wrench in the plans. They were required to study and hang out with the weasel for an entire week, which meant that they would have to take him to the RoR if they continued as planned.

The Slytherins were discussing the problem in low whispers when Henry decided to butt in. “You could just invite all of them. Then Draco would be able to come to. He was looking forward to it.”

Blaise frowned slightly, and then considered the Gryffindor table across the room. It appeared that the same silent treatment was being used on their housemate. “It would certainly help the supposed inter-house relations,” he reasoned.

Theo crossed his arms over his chest and sighed. “Better all of them than having this one rat on us.”

Crabbe and Goyle nodded. Pansy flipped her hair indifferently and the rest of the girls just shrugged.

“Right then. Let’s go over and invite them.” Henry stood and the rest of the Slytherins plus Harry and Ron followed suit. The red head was quite confused by their discussion, but he followed silently (a true feat of strength for the normally short-fused boy).

The Gryffindors got quiet at the approach of all the first years from their rival house. Draco turned and looked at them in confusion as well.

Blaise took the lead. “We were planning to have a study party today. We’d like to invite all of you, since Draco was looking forward to it as well. If you want to come, meet us on the seventh floor next to the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy.”

And with that, they returned to the dungeons to get their books. Behind them Draco found himself under the scrutiny of a dozen pairs of eyes. “What?” he asked.

“Is it really a study party?” Dean asked hesitantly.

The blond's eyes narrowed dangerously. “Of course it’s a party! Do you think they would have left me here with you lot if it was a trap? We’ve been planning this for weeks! We’re going to get ahead a bit on the reading so that when Christmas comes we won’t have as much homework.”

Several pairs of eyes lit up at that. “Well I’m in,” Hermione stated primly, grabbing her already full book bag from beside her seat and standing. “I was planning on studying in the library all day, but it would be more fun to do it in a group. I’ll take you to your friends if no one else is coming,” she offered to Draco.

He sneered. “Why would I let someone like you take me anywhere?” Hermione stiffened slightly at his tone and then left in a huff.

“And who said we weren’t coming?” Seamus stood as well. “Come on, Malfoy. Let’s go get our bags and then we can join the rest of the Slytherins for this study party thing.”

The blond sighed but followed.

Ten minutes later, all the first years from both houses (many of the Gryffindors had joined them out of sheer curiosity instead of actually wanting to study) had gathered next to the tapestry.

“All right, where’s this party taking place, exactly?” Parvati asked.

“Right here,” Henry announced. He shooed a few people out of the way to give him room to walk and then paced back and forth in front of the wall three times, thinking of a room where both Gryffindors and Slytherins would be comfortable studying together. Moments later a solid brass eight paneled door appeared in the wall. Loud gasps were heard from the Gryffindors, and even some of the Slytherins who hadn’t seen the room yet were impressed.

The door opened to reveal a large room with multiple levels with various seating arrangements scattered around. The colors were black and white, with a variegated sprinkling of green and red armchairs. The walls were lined with bookcases, each one labeled with a specific subject heading, such as “Charms”, “Transfiguration”, and “Potions”.

“How did you find this place?” Hermione gushed, already touching the books in each case lovingly.

“It was an accident.” Henry laughed. He turned to the rest of the students crowded around the entryway. “Welcome to the Room of Requirement!”

-o-0-o-

The study session had gone remarkably well. Everyone managed to either catch up or get ahead on all of their subjects, and Gryffindors and Slytherins had actually been working together! It was the start of a week of miracles. By the morning of Halloween, Draco was getting along with the Gryffindors enough to call most of them by their first name (including Harry finally), and Ron, while still nervous around Crabbe and Goyle, had begun to joke around with his new house, to great effect.

The last day of their enforced exchange began with breakfast followed by Potions as usual. Draco was working on the last few lines of his Potions essay during class that morning and Hermione, sitting next to him (Snape hadn’t attempted to pair Ron with Draco again), couldn’t help pointing out several spelling mistakes that he had made.

He scratched out several of them, but then she tried to tell him that his conclusion was completely wrong and he finally lost it.

“Would you shut up and mind your own bloody business!” he snapped. “It’s no wonder no one can stand you, you bloody know-it-all!”

Her eyes filled with tears and she kept her head down for the rest of the period. When the bell finally mercifully rang, she disappeared out the door like a shot. When she didn’t reappear for lunch, Harry and Henry grew worried and asked around to see if anyone had seen her. Parvati and Lavender revealed that she had been crying in the girl’s bathroom all morning and wanted to be left alone. Draco had swallowed guiltily and picked at his food after that.

The twins awkwardly returned to the tower with Draco and took turns playing chess until dinner.

“It’s not like her to hide away like this.” Henry said softly when he noticed Hermione was missing again.

“Yeah, and she’s been loads better since we started studying with her.” Harry mumbled.

Malfoy looked up and grimaced as he caught what they were talking about. He set down his fork with a sigh. “I suppose we could eat quick and take her some food.” He shifted nervously when they stared at him. “And I could come with you to apologize.

“Brilliant, Draco!” Harry smiled. The three enjoyed the feast quickly, bundling up some bread rolls and a few pumpkin pasties for their missing friend before leaving the Great Hall. Moments after they exited, Professor Quirrell ran into the room spouting some nonsense about a troll in the dungeons. Only Professor Snape had noticed the twins plus Draco leaving and he immediately moved to run out the door they had left through. But the Headmaster quickly stopped him and told him to go protect the third floor corridor before ordering everyone back to their dormitories.

The trio was by then knocking softly on the door to the girl’s loo. When they received no answer, Harry hesitantly stuck his head inside and called out, “Hermione?”

A loud sniffle answered him from one of the stalls.

“Er… can we come in? I mean, there’s no one actually _using_ the loo… right?”

“Oh shut up, Harry!” she snapped, appearing from the middle stall with a tear-streaked face. She immediately noticed Draco with the twins. “What’s he doing here?”

Draco moved forward sheepishly. “I came to apologize for what I said. I know you were just trying to help me and all…” He shifted from foot to foot. “It was just frustrating to have someone point out my mistakes like that. My father says that Malfoys should never feel inferior but, well, you’re smarter than me and I couldn’t stand it.”

She sniffed again, but seemed to have calmed down some. “Thanks. I guess.”

He grinned and held out his hand. “Apology accepted?”

Hermione smiled and shook his hand.

A loud crash echoed from the end of the corridor outside. Henry poked his head out and his eyes widened. A troll, an actual troll, was making its way towards the bathroom. Swiftly, he closed the door and locked it, but the motion had drawn the thing’s attention.

“There’s a troll!” he told them all quickly. “Hurry, hide!”

The four of them each picked a stall and closed and locked the door behind them. Outside, the troll began pounding on the closed door with frustration, each blow bending the hinges bit by bit until the whole door fell inward onto the floor with a crash.

The troll lumbered into the room and looked back and forth, seeing nothing but the bathroom stalls and sinks along the wall. Frustrated by the lack of prey, it swung its club through the stalls, reducing them to splinters and revealing four screaming young children inside.

Thinking quickly, Harry shot out a _stupefy_ at the troll as it backed them into the corner opposite the door. It hit with a splash of red light, but didn’t even make the beast pause. “Together!” he screamed. The others raised their wands and they simultaneously cast the spell. A huge wash of red struck the troll in the face and it wavered for a moment, looking somewhat sleepy, before toppling over backwards. Its own club struck it on the head, raising a large lump.

“Is it dead?” Hermione asked, too shaken to do more than slump against the wall.

“No, just stunned. I’m sure it will have a nasty headache when it wakes up, though.” Harry grinned.

Soon they were laughing hysterically. Moments later, a small cavalry of teachers, including McGonagall, Snape, Quirrell, and Dumbledore rushed through the ruined doorway to stare at the first years in shock.

“What on earth are you doing here?” McGonagall snapped. “You should be in your dormitories with the other students!”

They stopped laughing at once. “Sorry, Professor,” Harry spoke up. “We left the Great Hall early to find Hermione. And then we heard the troll and locked the door, but it broke it down and attacked us. I tried to stun it but it didn’t work, so we all cast the spell at the same time and, well, now it’s passed out on the floor, isn’t it?”

Snape’s lips twitched at the explanation. Henry noticed a tear on his head of house’s pants and a bloody gash that looked suspiciously like claw marks. The man quickly hid the leg under his robes and gave his pupil a stern look that clearly said, “Tell no one.”

“Be that as it may,” McGonagall began.

Snape interrupted. “Please, Minerva. I myself witnessed them leaving the Great Hall before Quirrell came in to warn us about the troll. He speaks the truth.”

Her lips pursed, but she refrained from commenting.

“Commendable, commendable!” Dumbledore twinkled at them. “Fifty points to both your houses for outstanding demonstration of friendship and courage! Go on back to your dormitories, now.”

They turned to leave. “Mr. Malfoy,” Snape hissed.

The blond paused to glance at his head. “Twenty points to Slytherin for a successful exchange week.”

With a grin, Draco followed his friends back up to Gryffindor tower. “You know,” he said, “I’m almost sad that this is my last night with you lot. I mean, if it weren’t for the garish red and gold colors everywhere, I’d be quite willing to stay.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment, however back-handed,” Harry said dryly.

“Did you notice Snape’s leg?” Henry asked when they were almost all the way back.

Hermione frowned. “Yeah, but the troll couldn’t have done that. Plus, he wouldn’t have let it get away once he found it.”

“I think it was the three-headed dog we found the first week of classes,” Henry revealed.

“The one you found in the third floor corridor?” Draco asked with a frown.

Harry nodded. “That does make sense, but why would Snape have gone there when there was a troll loose in the school?”

Henry sighed, patting his brother on the head. “I think Dumbledore sent him there to help protect whatever the dog is guarding. Think about it. If someone let the troll in as a distraction…”

“Then whoever let it in would go straight to the third floor instead of looking for the troll,” Hermione finished.

“But if you look at it that way, it’s possible that Snape is the one who let it in, since he went to the third floor corridor first as well,” Harry pointed out.

Draco snorted. “Despite how he treats some of the students, he would never do anything to endanger them. Trust me.”

Harry and Hermione nodded reluctantly while Henry agreed completely. “Regardless, let’s get some sleep. I’m beat after all that.”

That night, the twins stayed up a little later than everyone else, quietly talking in Harry’s bed about their parents. Now that they knew they had died on Halloween, it seemed wrong to let the holiday pass without paying their respects. A pair of black candles stayed lit on Harry’s bedside table all night as they lay curled around one another in the same bed.


	9. The Mirror of Erised

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So um… I accidentally caused myself to have to raise the rating on the story already… I blame it on the mirror. But, I figured I’d have to raise it eventually anyway. Might just make it ‘M’ to save myself the trouble later. XD Sorry to anyone who liked it at ‘K+’. And if anyone has any problems with the rating being raised, please tell me! I will post the graphic details elsewhere when they happen. Thanks!

**Chapter Nine: The Mirror of Erised**

By the time Christmas began to approach, the Slytherins and Gryffindors had met to have a new study party every weekend. Everyone was well ahead in the reading, and when the professors handed out the assignments due after the New Year, they were surprised by the whoops of joy that those two houses let out.

The exchange program continued to be a hit. After Ron and Draco, Hermione had been traded with Padma Patil in Ravenclaw, allowing her to make a few intellectual friends and tone down her know-it-all character even more. Even Draco found that it was no longer galling to take advice and tips from the bushy haired girl.

Students began to sign up to stay over the holidays, and Harry and Henry were delighted to learn that Ron and his brothers would be staying since their parents were going to Romania to spend time with their second-oldest son, Charlie. Both Draco and Hermione were going home, so it was nice to have at least one of their close friends there, and they hadn’t had the chance yet to spend much time with the Weasley twins.

After waving off their friends at the platform, Harry, Henry, and Ron trekked their way back up towards the castle and got waylaid by the twins and Percy, who had built two snow forts and proceeded to pelt the first years with snowballs from behind the farther one. The three boys immediately ducked for cover behind the available fort and Henry set to work shaping a pile of snowballs while he let Ron and Harry throw with their better aim. A dark shape loomed up and joined them a few minutes into the fight, and Hagrid, resplendent in his moleskin coat, shaped the largest snowball Hen had ever seen (easily the size of the average snowman’s bottom half) and chucked it at the older students. A muffled “Eeep!” was heard from Percy, while the twins went down laughing.

“That’ll teach yer to pick on first years!” Hagrid chuckled.

Eventually, cold, wet, and tired, they trooped over to Hagrid’s hut at his invitation to share some warm tea in the cozy little room.

“I wish I could have seen the looks on your faces!” Ron laughed at his brothers. “Still, it didn’t hurt, did it? That giant snowball?”

Hagrid looked chagrined for a moment until the three older boys assured him they were fine. “It was like having a tree suddenly dump all the snow on its branches directly over your head, that’s all.” Percy laughed.

“Blimey, that gives me a great idea for a prank!” George cried.

“I think I know exactly what you’re thinking, let’s get to it,” Fred answered. They guzzled back the rest of their tea and disappeared back into the cold.

Percy sighed, finishing the last of his own tea. “I’d better make sure they don’t get into too much trouble. I’ll see you later Hagrid, boys.” He nodded and ducked out the door, letting in one last gust of cold air.

Hagrid chuckled, refilling the remaining boys’ cups and clearing away the others. “Some poor soul is going to have snowballs chasing them around the rest of the day, you mark my words.”

“I hope it’s not Snape!” Henry said worriedly. “I’ve been trying to catch him in a good mood since Halloween.”

“Professor Snape, in a good mood?” Hagrid crowed with laughter at the thought. “Never you mind that it’s impossible, why would you want something like that?”

“We’ve been trying to ask him why he tried to get past the three headed dog in the third floor corridor on Halloween,” Harry explained.

“How do you know about Fluffy?”

“Fluffy!? That thing has a name?” Ron gasped.

“’Course. I raised him from a pup, I did. What were you three doing up there, anyway?”

“We got lost the first weekend we were here. But on Halloween, Snape went there on purpose. He had a nasty gash on his leg when I saw him that night,” Henry told the half giant.

“Do you know anything about what the dog is guarding?” Harry asked innocently.

“Never you mind about that. What Fluffy is guarding is between the Headmaster and Nicholas Flamel.”

“Flamel?” Ron asked. “You mean the alchemist?”

Hagrid muttered, “I shouldn’t have said that,” under his breath.

The other two boys looked at Ron incredulously.

“What? There’s a chocolate frog card of him. Only I’ve got about twenty. He’s famous for lots of things, but I’d have to check the back of one of em’ to see why.”

“Now see here!” Hagrid admonished them. “You leave well enough alone, you hear? You lot are mixing into things you’d best not mess with. Leave it to the Headmaster and the other professors. They have things well in hand.”

Harry put a hand on the man’s arm. “Hagrid, it’s too late for that. We already know where to look for the information. But I promise we don’t do anything to interfere unless the Headmaster and the other teachers can’t do anything to help us. All right?”

“All right.” Hagrid smiled reluctantly. “Off with you lot. Go find the card and read up. I’d rather you know what you’re messing with before you go flying off the handle, since you’re so determined.

“Thanks!” Ron finished his tea and stood. “Lucky for us, I brought my whole collection with me just in case someone wanted to trade.”

They left the half giant behind and made it back up to Gryffindor tower. Henry was the only first year Slytherin staying for the holidays, so he had decided to stay with his friends in the tower.

Ron rummaged through his trunk and pulled out several muggle shoe boxes that when opened were filled to overflowing with chocolate frog cards.

“Geez, Ron! It’s going to take forever to find the one we’re looking for!” Harry complained.

“No, it won’t. I have them in order alphabetically. Just find the box that’s labeled as having ‘F’s’.”

“This is probably the only thing you own that’s actually organized,” Hen accused, finding the correct box and rifling through it.

“Oi!” Ron cried. “Well, you’re probably right. I just figured, if someone here had Agrippa or Ptolemy and wanted to trade for something I had more than one of, I had better have them in order to make finding it easier. Did all that organizing instead of packing my trunk the night before catching the train.”

The three of them laughed, and then Hen found the right card. “Here it is! Listen: ‘Nicholas Flamel is an alchemist who was born in France in the fourteenth century and is the only known maker of the Philosopher’s Stone, which grants immortal life and riches to the user. He celebrated his six hundred and sixty-fifth birthday this year.’”

“So that’s it?” Harry asked. “The thing Fluffy is guarding on the third floor is the Philosopher’s Stone?”

“Who wouldn’t want it?” Ron asked, staring off into space dreamily. “I mean, living forever with as much money as you could ever want?”

“Sounds like it would get boring very quickly,” Henry admitted.

“I suppose,” Ron answered, “But you could live as long as you needed to, until you had done everything you ever wanted, and then just pass on knowing that your life had been lived to fulfillment.”

The twins shrugged dubiously.

“Well, I guess now that we know, we can just keep an eye on things and make sure nothing happens to it,” Harry decided.

“Good idea. Let’s get some sleep, now. I’m peaked after that snowball fight earlier.”

The twins crawled into the same bed again, having taken to doing so since Halloween. They had shared a bed all their lives until the Dursley’s bought them a bunk bed. Having given it up for a short time, they both agreed that being together was more comfortable.

The candles were blown out and they fell asleep to the muted sound of snow falling outside the window.

-o-0-o-

Christmas morning came fast after that. They had learned from Hagrid (after a little prodding) that several of the professors, including Snape, had placed protections on the stone. No one but Dumbledore knew what sort of enchantments they had left, though.

The sight of the small mound of presents at the end of he and Henry’s bed made all thoughts of the Stone leave his mind, though.

“Presents!” Harry gasped, shaking his brother awake as he hadn’t even stirred at Ron’s excited yelling yet.

“Wha?” Henry mumbled, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. Then he saw clearly enough that there was a jumble of oddly shaped and brightly wrapped bundles on the end of the bed and he joined Harry in examining them with excitement.

They had never had presents before, nor the money to give them to anyone else.

From Hermione they each received a large box of chocolate frogs. Mrs. Weasley had sent along a box of homemade fudge and two emerald green sweaters with H’s knitted into the fronts. They put them on immediately. Hagrid sent along two beautifully carved wooden flutes. Harry’s sounded a bit like an owl while Hen’s was more like a nightingale. The Dursleys, unexpectedly, had sent them each fifty pounds, which Ron looked at like it was the strangest thing he’d ever seen.

“Paper? But how do they prevent people from just making it themselves?” He cast a duplication charm to prove his point, and the twins had a hard time figuring out which one was real so they could get their present back.

Several of the Slytherins had also sent along presents. Crabbe and Goyle had teamed up to give the twins a thorough sampling of Honeyduke’s best chocolate. Blaise gave them both very nice wizarding watches, that had extra hands that said things like, ‘You’re late!’ ‘Time for a break’ and ‘Homework time’. He told them the shop where they were sold in Diagon Alley so that they could get new hands as the old ones stopped applying.

Finally, Draco had sent them a gift certificate to Quality Quidditch Supplies. After their flying lessons early in the year, the boy was determined that at least one of them would have to try out the next year. “You can’t let that talent go to waste!” Henry was mostly indifferent to the sport, so he suspected that by the next year he would be watching his brother and his best friend duking it out over the snitch (after all, they were both built to be seekers).

At the bottom of the pile was a small squishy package wrapped in purple paper. Inside was a cloak made from some kind of silvery fabric. A note fell out as Harry unfurled it and Henry picked it up. “Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well. A very Happy Christmas to you.”

“Who is it from?” Harry asked.

“It doesn’t say.” Henry watched as his brother wrapped the cloak around his shoulders and both he and Ron gasped as the other boy disappeared from the neck down.

“An invisibility cloak!” Ron said. “They’re really rare, and really valuable.”

“I bet it’s from Dumbledore,” Henry said.

“Yeah, who else would have something our dad left behind?” Harry grinned.

“You two should try it out tonight. You might be able to catch Snape or someone else snooping around the third floor corridor,” Ron offered.

“Maybe.” Henry hesitated.

“We could at least explore,” Harry wheedled. “Come on, Hen! You know you want to try it! Even Mrs. Norris won’t be able to see us in this.”

“All right. We can go out tonight.”

-o-0-o-

Henry stared down into the glowing red eyes of Mrs. Norris over his brother’s shoulder. “What was that about her not being able to see us?” he asked in a furious whisper.

The cat turned away and dashed down the hall the way she had come.

“Come on,” Hen hissed, “She’s probably gone to fetch Filch.”

They ducked into the nearest classroom—they had made it to the third floor, but not the particular corridor where Fluffy was hiding the Stone—but it seemed that the professors and the caretaker were patrolling the area much more heavily now that most of the students were away.

The room they entered was completely empty except for a tall gilt mirror in the very center of the room. Harry slipped out from under the cloak and stepped in front of it, curious. After a moment he gasped. “Hen, come look! It’s our parents!”

Henry hurried over and joined Harry in front of the mirror. He frowned. “I only see us.”

“Stand in it properly, go on. Stand here where I am!”

Henry moved to take his brother’s place and glanced up at the mirror to see… them. He was about to tell Harry that it was just an ordinary mirror when he realized that the twins in the mirror were several years older than they were now. He had his arms wrapped around Harry’s waist possessively and as Henry watched his twin in the mirror turned his head and their lips met in a warm and gentle kiss.

Gasping, he turned away from the mirror, sure that his face must be flaming red.

“Did you see them?” Harry asked, taking his place in front of the mirror once more. “There’s loads of people behind us, too. I reckon there’s a grandfather on dad’s side that has our knobbly knees.”

Hen didn’t answer, instead he studied the inscription at the top of the mirror that he had not noticed before. “Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi,” he mumbled.

“What’s that?” Harry asked, taking his eyes off the mirror at last.

“The inscription at the top. It’s not Latin.” Henry frowned and then glanced at the mirror below, a sudden idea occurring to him. “It’s a mirror image. I show not your face… but your heart’s desire!”

“That makes sense.” Harry smiled back at the images of his mum and dad. “All I’ve ever wanted was to know our family. Do you see the same thing?”

Hen shook his head. “No.” And he left it at that.

“Oh.” Harry looked sad, but then he looked at the mirror and the frown was replaced by a strange happy look. He moved to sit down, but suddenly Hen was beside him and pulling him up.

“Come on Harry, I don’t like the way this mirror is making you act. Let’s get back to the tower.”

“But Hen!”

“No buts, Harry.” He wavered at the upset look on his brother’s face. And then there was that kiss. Now that he was no longer flustered, he almost wanted a second look himself. “We can come back tomorrow night and bring Ron and the twins with us.”

“Oh, all right.” Harry pouted but followed his brother under the cloak anyway.

-o-0-o-

“So where is it?” Fred whispered.

“This cloak is a bit small for all five of us, mate,” Ron muttered.

“Relax, it was just up here a bit farther. The only classroom on the left. There!” Henry pointed under the cloak at the door that was just barely ajar.

They ducked inside and all five teens drew deep breaths as they freed themselves from the cloak. As airy as the fabric was, it was still a bit crowded with so many people underneath.

“So this is the mirror?” George asked, moving to stand in front of the frame. He gasped a moment later. “Fred, come quick!”

The other twin hurried to take his place and a grin of delight suffused his face as well. They turned to one another and grasped hands, looking as though Christmas had continued for an extra day. “Our own joke shop, and Zonko’s in the dust at our feet!” they crowed.

Harry frowned. “How come both of you saw the same thing and Henry and I didn’t?”

“It’s simple, Harry my friend.” Fred wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

“You and Henry simply don’t have personalities as similar as ours.” George came up on Harry’s other side.

“Yeah, I mean, one of you is a Gryffindor and one of you is a Slytherin,” Ron offered. “That’s as different as you can get for twins.”

Henry chose to intervene as he noticed his brother looking more and more upset. “Ron, you go next. Harry and I have already seen ours.”

“And what did you see?” Fred sidled up to him as he had Harry.

“Oh slithery Slytherin?” George added from his other side.

Harry looked interested in the answer as well, but luckily Ron interrupted.

“I’m head boy!” he cried. “I’m holding the House Cup and the Quidditch Cup. I’m Quidditch Captain too!”

Fred and George were suddenly at his sides. “Oh ickle Ronniekins. We have failed you! Don’t go over to the dark side like Bill and Percy!”

“Shove off!” he pushed them away impatiently.

“It’s my turn!” Harry cried. “I want to see my parents again!” He took his place in front of the mirror and just smiled happily for several minutes while the twins wrestled with Ron on the floor. Henry grew worried that they would be heard and decided to round everyone up. He pulled Harry from the mirror once more, and noticed that his twin was even more reluctant to leave now. But eventually everyone moved back to the cloak, getting ready to leave. As he passed the mirror, Hen couldn’t help but to glance in again at the captivating image. There they were again, but this time their lips were locked in a much more heated kiss, and he could swear that both of mirror-Harry’s hands were up the back of mirror-Henry’s sweater. His mirror image took the opportunity while Hen was watching to grip mirror-Harry’s arse and pull him closer.

Henry could practically _hear_ the groan of arousal that left mirror-Harry’s lips at the movement.

Gasping, he turned away and joined his friends and brother under the cloak.

“Ickle Henry is blushing,” one of the Weasley twins teased.

“What _does_ your brother see when he looks in the mirror, Harry?” the other asked.

“Shut up!” Henry cried, a little too loudly. A distinctly cat-like yowl was heard down the corridor.

“Run!” Ron shouted.

They thundered back up to Gryffindor tower and collapsed into their respective beds. Henry joined Harry on their four poster once more, but couldn’t bring himself to touch the other boy after his twin fell asleep.

“What’s wrong with me?” he whispered into the dark room. The image in the mirror was surely his heart’s desire, but it wasn’t something he saw himself ever wanting, much less at the age of eleven. There had to be some other reason for it.

Thinking of the soul bond that they shared, Hen resolved to spend some time in the library researching the connection a little more.

Deciding that it couldn’t be helped, he rolled over and spooned against Harry’s back, smiling when the sleeping boy’s hand fell into his and threaded their fingers together. If he pulled Harry a little tighter against him than normal or relished the smell of his brother’s hair tickling his face, he didn’t admit it even to himself.

Harry smiled into his pillow. Whatever Hen had seen in the Mirror of Erised, it seemed that he had come to terms with it. The older boy quickly fell asleep at his back and Harry wriggled around to face him, wrapping his arms around his brother to protect him from the demons that had been haunting his eyes all day. He didn’t expect Hen to snuggle into his neck, nor the kiss placed there that sent an electric tingle down his spine.

-o-0-o-

Harry did his best not to blush the next morning, and mostly succeeded. Hen wanted to spend the day in the library researching something, so they decided to try parting ways and see how far they could get before the pain started. The answer was about two floors or halfway across the castle. After that, a dull sort of ache started that grew worse the longer they stayed apart.

That night, Harry lay beside his brother in their bed and waited for Henry to fall asleep. The mirror was still weighing on his mind, and he wanted to see their parents just one more time before he stopped going.

He slipped softly from the bed and opened his trunk to retrieve the cloak before tiptoeing out of the room.

-o-0-o-

Henry opened his eyes when the door closed and sighed. Harry was probably going to go see the Mirror of Erised again. He just hoped that his brother would come to his senses on his own, since his own attempts didn’t seem to have worked.

He rolled over and thought of what he had read that day. There was no other information on soul bonds in the normal part of the library. He could only assume that the restricted section would have more, but Madam Pince had been pinch-lipped enough at him asking to see the soul books again.

For now, it seemed that the nature of the bond, and the reasons for what he had seen in the mirror would remain a mystery.

-o-0-o-

Harry sat in front of the mirror and gazed up at his parents, almost reaching out a hand to touch them before he reminded himself that it wasn’t real.

A noise behind him made him turn and he gasped as he saw Professor Dumbledore standing in front of the chalkboard at the front of the room.

“Good evening, Harry. I see that you have discovered the seductive allure of the Mirror of Erised.”

Harry looked away and glanced at his mother waving at him from the corner of his eye. “I know it’s not real, Professor. But I can’t help wanting to see them. My mum and dad. And all the rest of our family.”

“Ah. Yes, you are not the first to be entranced by what you have seen. The happiest person in the world could use this mirror as though it were nothing more than mirrored glass. Men have wasted away before it, or gone mad, not sure if what they are seeing is real or even possible.”

“Hen… Henry saw something else, but he won’t tell anyone what it was,” Harry whispered. “And he doesn’t seem to be drawn back to it like I am. It’s like, whatever he saw isn’t something he really wants.”

Dumbledore chuckled. “The heart is a peculiar thing. Whatever your brother saw, I suspect that he does not yet know himself well enough to expect it to appear in the mirror.”

Harry nodded thoughtfully.

“The mirror will be moved to a new home tomorrow, Harry. I must ask you not to go seeking it out again.”

“Yes, Professor.” He stood and wrapped the cloak around his shoulders. “Good night.”

“Good night, my boy.” Dumbledore smiled gently and watched the youngest Potter leave the room. When he was quite sure that Harry was gone, he tapped the side of the mirror and murmured, “ _Orexis revalio_.” His eyebrows raised as he viewed the most recent heartfelt desires that the mirror had absorbed. “This… complicates things,” he hummed to himself as he turned and left the room.


	10. Through the Trap Door

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two more chapters of year one! I can’t wait to start year two already. Things are going to be quite different from what you expect. ^_~

**Chapter Ten: Through the Trapdoor**

The first of the year passed and the other students returned—classes resumed with a vengeance as the professors prepared the students for end of year exams.

The History of Magic notes project took a whole new level when the Slytherin first years decided to approach the upper years about the problem. With a few representatives from each class, it was agreed that over the next year and a half, the students from all four houses would team together to make a master set of notes separated by year. Binn’s lectures never changed and everyone was sure they would be able to practically record every word of the boring old ghost’s speeches. By the time the current first years were in their third year, they would have a set of notes for all seven years of Hogwarts, should they choose to continue with OWLs and NEWTs for History.

It was a cloudy evening in late April, only a few weeks left before exams, when the Potter twins were approached by the Weasley twins.

“Psst!”

Harry looked over and saw the red-headed twins hiding behind a statue of a humpbacked witch and nudged his brother.

Soon both pairs of twins were squished in behind the statue and George began to speak.

“You remember the three-headed dog on the third floor?”

Henry nodded.

Fred continued, “We were just in Hogsmeade getting supplies for the party we’re throwing when Gryffindor wins the Quidditch Cup, and we saw Hagrid going into the Hog’s Head with this strange cloaked bloke.”

“So we snuck inside and listened to their conversation from a distance. The man in the cloak kept buying Hagrid drinks and asking him about what he does up here at the castle. Somehow he knew that Hagrid also has a thing for large and dangerous beasts,” George supplied.

“Eventually, they got to talking about what sorts of creatures Hagrid has raised, and he said, ‘After Fluffy, well, I think I could handle even a full-grown dragon,’” Fred cried.

“The cloaked man was very interested in Fluffy, asking how Hagrid had been able to handle a three-headed dog. And Hagrid said, ‘Oh, Fluffy is a sweetheart once you play him a bit of music. Puts him right to sleep.’”

Harry looked at Henry aghast and then asked, “Did you see who the stranger was? Did he sound familiar?”

“Nah,” Fred said. “He kept his hood up the whole time and left after he heard the bit about the music. Gave Hagrid some kind of book and a business card on black-market dragon eggs.”

“This is bad,” Henry muttered. “Whoever it is knows how to get past Fluffy now, and he’s probably the most dangerous thing out of whatever protections the other professors put on the Stone.”

“But as long as Dumbledore is here,” Harry said, “then the Stone is safe. Right?”

The other boys all nodded in agreement. “We’ll keep our ears open,” George promised. “If we get wind of Dumbledore leaving the castle, we’ll let you know.”

“All right. Let’s meet up with Ron, Hermione, and Draco to come up with a contingency plan if that happens,” Henry said.

-o-0-o-

After much arguing amongst the Slytherin and Gryffindor sides of the discussion (for Henry and Draco still maintained that Snape was innocent, while Ron, Harry and Hermione could only compromise by saying they’d rather be safe than sorry) it was decided that they would go to find McGonagall if Dumbledore left the castle for any period of time.

It seemed only moments later that exams were upon them, and all thoughts of the Stone were driven from their minds.

The Slythindor Study Parties (as they had been reluctantly dubbed) had continued after the New Year, aiming this time to prepare both houses for exams. Copies of the History of Magic notes were provided to everyone and they all worked together to help each other with the various weaknesses each particular caster was prone to. By the time the first exam rolled around, everyone was feeling remarkably calm and relaxed about their chances (with the possible exception of Hermione, who would always obsess over her grades regardless).

Monday they took the written tests for Transfiguration and Charms and the Herbology practical exam. Tuesday were both the Defense written and practical tests, Wednesday Herbology written and Charms practical, Thursday Astronomy written during the day and practical at midnight, and on Friday morning they all stumbled through a Forgetfulness Potion for their practical and breathed a little easier through the written portion in the afternoon.

The last test of the year, all the first years were gathered in the Great Hall to take the History of Magic written exam. McGonagall, who was proctoring the exam, was used to students taking either forever to finish this test or turning it in after barely half an hour of pulling their hair out. This year, however, every single student took around forty five minutes to finish the test and handed it in with a confident smile on their faces.

Of course, this made the stern witch somewhat suspicious and she immediately cast a spell on the tests to grade the multiple choice portions. Nearly every student had gotten more than eighty percent correct. It was unheard of. And the essay sections when she found the time to read them, were even better!

Several of the first years, despite this being their last exam, had hung around when she began grading the tests in the hopes of hearing or seeing their grades a bit early. One of these was Hermione Granger.

“Professor, did I do all right on the test? I’ve just been wondering, because we’ve all been studying ever so hard, and…”

“Ms. Granger, I cannot divulge your test score until it is owled to you when you return home. The number of first year students who have passed the exam this year, however, is unheard of. I’m going to have to make sure there was no cheating involved. I’ll discuss it with Professor Dumbledore tomorrow when he returns from London. In the meantime, go outside and enjoy the fresh air. You’ve earned it.” She gave the young girl, who had gone a little wide eyed towards the end of her speech, a rare smile and returned to her office.

Hermione ran outside to find the twins, Ron, and Draco and gasped out the news that Dumbledore was in London until the next day.

“WHAT!?” Harry cried.

The five children sat in a circle to discuss the problem.

“That’s it then, Snape is going through the trap door tonight!” Ron groaned.

“For the last time, it’s not Snape!” Henry and Draco yelled in unison.

“Regardless,” Hermione snapped, “the Stone is in danger. We should go to Professor McGonagall right now and let her know what we’ve figured out.”

They all marched back into the castle and found the Transfiguration professor in her office.

“Professor!” Harry gasped. “You’ve got to do something! The Philosopher’s Stone is in danger!”

McGonagall gasped. “How on earth do you know about that?”

“Never mind that, Professor,” Henry interrupted, “you said earlier that Dumbledore is going to be in London overnight, and we know that someone is after the Stone. Tonight is the ideal time for the culprit to strike, since the Headmaster is not here to protect the school.”

“And how, exactly, are you so sure that someone is after the Stone?” she asked rigidly.

The five children exchanged glances. “Er… we know Snape went up there on Halloween and got bitten in the leg by the dog,” Ron offered.

“We think that Professor Dumbledore sent Professor Snape to protect it that night, because the troll was a distraction to let whoever is after the Stone get a look at the protections,” Draco interrupted the red-head before he could accuse Snape of being the culprit.

But McGonagall’s lips thinned even further. “That is hardly strong enough evidence to suggest that the Stone is in danger. And regardless of what you five may think, there are many different protections on the Stone, including some created by Dumbledore himself. Now if you are quite finished, go back outside and enjoy the rest of the warm weather today, and leave the safety of the Stone to your professors.”

They were ushered out of her office despite their many protests and everyone flinched when she slammed it shut behind them.

“So much for asking a Professor to help,” Ron mumbled.

Harry leaned closer to the others and whispered softly to them, “Tonight, we go through the trap door ourselves. If McGonagall won’t listen to us, neither will anyone else. We’ll have to do this on our own.”

Henry and Draco exchanged a look but nodded with everyone else.

-o-0-o-

The two Slytherin boys slipped away from their friends a little later that afternoon and made their way into the dungeons to find their own Head of House. Professor Snape was busily grading several racks of potions created by his students during their exams.

“Professor Snape, do you have a moment?” Draco asked as Henry closed the door behind them.

The man raised his eyebrows at their unusually serious attitudes before nodding slightly.

Licking his lips nervously, Henry began to talk, rattling off the whole long tale about their knowledge of the Stone and the fact that Dumbledore was gone and how McGonagall hadn’t believed they had enough proof to warrant any action on her part.

The dark-eyed Professor simply sat and listened, barely raising an eyebrow during the whole exchange. Finally he whispered at the end of their tale, “Fifty points to Slytherin for attempting to notify a Professor, even if you picked the wrong one.”

They winced, but Draco protested, “We wanted to tell you all along, Professor. But the Gryffindors seem to think that you may be the one trying to steal the Stone in the first place, no matter how much we tell them you would never endanger students.”

Snape gave the barest glimmer of a smile. “I suppose that’s to be expected, given how nastily I tend to treat my students. Still, I’m glad you came to me anyway. But this causes problems. I cannot help you without your friends knowing that you came to me, but at the same time I cannot let five first years try to protect the Stone by themselves.” He tapped his fingers rhythmically on his desk. “Here is what I suggest. Take the Weasley twins with you.” He raised a hand to stall their protests. “They may only be third years, but they are quite a bit smarter than they act most of the time. They’d have to be to get away with what they do. I will leave immediately to fetch the Headmaster back from London. With any luck, I will return before you have to leave for the third floor tonight.”

The two boys nodded reluctantly and turned to leave.

“And Henry?” He turned to face his Head of House. “I believe the culprit is quite a bit more than you may believe. You and Harry should be especially careful.”

He nodded again and he and Draco left the room. Inside his office, Severus Snape opened a tall, narrow cupboard behind his desk and pulled out a light cloak and his broomstick. He just hoped that he and Dumbledore would make it in time.

-o-0-o-

Both Henry and Draco joined their three Gryffindor friends in the tower common room, eventually joined by the Weasley twins when the Slytherins explained that they might need the help of some older students. All seven of them loitered around and played several nervous games of Exploding Snape (an altered set of the cards created by the twins) as the rest of the Gryffs slowly filtered away and disappeared into their dorms. Finally, it was just them at almost midnight and Harry dashed upstairs to fetch the invisibility cloak and he and Henry’s flutes that Hagrid had given them for Christmas.

The five first years crowded under the cloak while the red-haired twins cast disillusionment charms on themselves. Together they exited the portrait hole and made their way through the darkened castle to the third floor corridor.

A quick _alohomora_ cast by Hermione opened the door to Fluffy’s room and the Potter twins immediately began to play on their flutes, stilling the giant dog mid growl and creating a strange sort of nightingale/owl harmony in the dark room. The other five worked together to lift one of Fluffy’s giant paws off of the trap door, then opened it and dropped down one by one. They were followed by Henry and then Harry.

The landed in a pool of water covered in beautiful yellow flowers on long stems that floated above the water. Hermione was looking around worriedly as she treaded water, “These look familiar…”

Fred swam a little closer to one to get a better look when he was suddenly sucked under the water with a swift ‘bloop’.

“Bladderwort!” Hermione screamed, “Don’t move! Each one of these plants has half a dozen pods hidden under the water.”

George didn’t listen, too worried about his brother to stay still. He was sucked under a moment later.

“George! Fred!” Harry screamed. “Hermione, how do we get them out?”

“Bladderwort, bladderwort… it’s like a venus fly trap underwater. If we can trigger the response mechanism, they might be able to escape!”

“But how do we do that without getting captured ourselves?” Ron yelled.

A bubble of water appeared about where Fred had gone down and moments later the red-head popped back up gasping for air.

“Fred!” Harry yelled. “George got pulled down too, how did you get out?”

“ _P-premo vita!_ ” he gasped.

Henry aimed carefully at the place where George had disappeared and repeated the spell, “ _Premo vita!_ ” A second whoosh of released water surged up from the bladder he had hit and George came coughing and spluttering to the surface a moment later.

“Are you two all right?” Ron asked his brothers worriedly. They nodded, wiping the water from their eyes.

“Right, no one move.” Henry ordered. “Hermione, any ideas on how to get out of here?”

She spoke slowly, “This plant exists in the muggle world, too. I remember reading a study that said that if you cut the stalks of the flowers, the bladders will no longer trigger when you brush against them.”

“Right,” Fred said, “Leave that to us. No one move, I wouldn’t want to sever any heads.”

The twins began casting cutting hexes at each of the flowers. Soon the surface of the water was covered with floating flowers.

“I think that’s all of them. I’m going to try moving out of the pool now, I’m counting on you guys to bail me out if that didn’t work.” George started swimming slowly to the edge of the pool. He could feel the underwater stalks and bladders from the plants as he brushed past them but none of them reacted to his presence and he reached the edge and pulled himself out. “I think it’s worked. One at a time now, swim this way.”

They each swam to the edge and helped one another out of the pool. Draco looked down at his sopping wet clothes in disgust and proceeded to cast drying charms on everyone.

“Thanks.” Ron smiled.

“No problem,” Draco answered.

Wondering what else this place had in store for them, they followed the only open hallway into the next room. As they all crowded through the doorway, they entered a long and narrow room that appeared at first glance to be empty. But as Henry stepped onto the long royal blue and bronze rug that stretched across the length of the room, a pile of dust at the other end quickly rose up and created the shape of a very familiar and diminutive figure.

“Professor Flitwick?” Henry asked.

The dust figure raised its right arm where they could see the long straight shape of a wand grasped in its clenched fingers, and then it bowed and paused in that position as if waiting.

Ron gasped. “It’s a wizard’s duel. You have to duel Professor Flitwick to move onto the next room.”

Henry gulped, but raised his left wand arm and bowed back to the dust specter. After a moment the shadow of Flitwick stood straight and took a dueling pose. Henry followed suit. In the air between them, a large glowing blue ‘3’ appeared, then counted down to ‘2’ then ‘1’. As the number faded from the air, Flitwick shot out a shadowy maroon spell that Henry just managed to dodge in time.

“He’s casting silently!” George cried. “If you don’t recognize one of the spells he casts, you’d better dodge, mate!”

“I think I’d figured that out myself!” Henry yelled back, dodging what he suspected what a stinging hex at the same time. “ _Stupefy!_ ”

His spell struck a light blue barrier that appeared around the specter after a short wave of its wand. Moments later the tell-tale blue beam of a disarming charm struck Henry on the left side of his chest and his wand was ripped from his fingers and flew into Flitwick’s waiting hand. A red counter appeared in the air in the middle of the room, counting down second by second from ‘60’.

“What’s that mean?” Henry asked Ron, dodging the spells that Flitwick continued to cast.

“You have sixty seconds to get your wand back before you’re considered incapacitated.” Ron answered, wincing as his friend got struck my a mild tickling charm.

“Well that’s not exactly fair, is it George?” Fred asked his brother.

“No, brother mine, it really isn’t. I mean, some wizards are able to cast spells pretty reliably without a wand.”

They exchanged a glance and then drew their own wands and dove into the fray, firing off a succession of spells against the shadow of their Charms professor. Most of them were blocked, however one of Fred’s Exhortation Curses managed to strike the diminutive figure in between several casts of its Protego Charm.

“Oi!” Ron tried. “You can’t just barge into the middle of a wizard’s duel! It’s against the rules!”

“Sorry ickle brother,” George answered, dodging a spell cast his way, “But the rules of this particular duel were already being broken by Professor Flitwick here.”

The remaining three first years shrugged at that, drew their own wands, and entered the duel as well.

The timer in the air was still counting down, however, and as it reached ‘1’ and then ‘0’, Flitwick paused and held up Henry’s wand between both hands and raised it as though it would break it in half.

“No!” Hen screamed, making a mad dash towards the figure to save his wand.

“ _Expelliarmus!_ ” cried four different voices. George, Fred, Draco, and Hermione all struck their professor with the spell at the same time and Hen found his wand flying towards him as though it had wings. The power of the combined spell smashed the specter of a wizard into the opposite wall, where he slowly crumbled down into a pile of dust.

Everyone drew a deep breath (Henry was hugging his wand as though they had been separated for ten years), dusted themselves off (pun intended), and made their way across to the door… to find it locked.

“I told you we shouldn’t have interfered with the duel!” Ron cried. “It probably only unlocks if you beat Flitwick according to the rules.

“Relax.” Fred admonished him from where he was studying the professor’s remains. He held up an ornate bronze key, “You just have to defeat him to get the key from inside of him.”

They unlocked the door and proceeded into the next room. It was pitch black inside until they stumbled onto the edge of a raised platform. Then, the lights flashed on brilliantly and revealed a giant chessboard complete with larger than life pieces.

“Can we just walk across?” Hermione asked. In response, the pawns of the white pieces across the way drew their weapons and barred the walkways between them. “I guess not,” she muttered.

“We have to take their places and play,” Ron said.

The others all exchanged glances and then the twins appeared on either side of their brother. “You know ickle brother,” Fred began.

“You’re the best chess player we know,” George finished.

“They’re right,” Draco admitted reluctantly. “You’re even better than me, and no one in Slytherin can beat my set.”

Harry and Henry clapped their friend on the shoulders encouragingly while Hermione just smiled confidently at him.

“Right.” Ron took a deep breath. “Harry, you be the King. Hermione you’re the Queen. Fred, George, you take the King-side Rook and Bishop. Henry, you’re the King-side Knight. I’ll be the other Knight, and you can take the other Bishop, Draco.”

Everyone nodded and the pieces he had specified left the chessboard to let the children take their places.

“White always moves first,” Ron said. Moments later, a white pawn moved from in front of the King and took two paces forward. Ron cleared his throat. “Pawn to G4.” The pawn directly in front of him took two paces.

And so they continued. Ron did his best to keep all the human pieces out of danger. Their other rook was taken early on to free Hermione from the clutches of the White Queen, leaving them with nothing but pawns that could safely be lost.

Finally it came about that Henry, Ron, and Draco were all in danger of being attacked on the next turn. Ron studied the board desperately, trying to find a way to save all of them and still win.

“Ron,” Draco called from across the board, “move me to B5!”

Ron studied the move and realized what Draco was asking. “No! I can’t, Draco. You’ll be killed!”

“If you move me to B5, I’ll be taken, which leaves you free to checkmate the King.” Draco smiled nervously. “Don’t worry about me, I’ve got a hard head, remember?”

Ron glanced over the board once more and made a decision. “All right.” But before Draco could move, he took one step forward and two right, forcing Draco’s plan to work in reverse. The White Queen stalked towards him across the board and raised the stone fan in her hand, bringing it crashing down on Ron and sending him into a crumpled heap on the floor.

“NO!” Draco and Hermione both screamed at the same time, almost walking out of their squares before they remembered themselves.

Then Draco, with tears running openly down his face, took the three diagonal squares necessary to checkmate the White King, who dropped his crown at the blond Slytherin’s feet.

Everyone rushed immediately to Ron’s side. “He’s all right.” Hermione said with relief, noting that Ron seemed to have a bump on his head and a few minor cuts, but no severe damage.

Draco hoisted the red-head’s arm over his shoulder and stood with the burden. “You all go on ahead. I’m going to take Ron to the hospital wing and try to find a professor to help us.”

Henry smiled, knowing now that Draco had truly come to like the Weasley under his arm. “All right, Draco. Good luck!”

“Good luck to you,” Draco answered softly, worried for his friends despite the need to get Ron to Madam Pomfrey.

They parted ways and the remaining five members crossed the rest of the chessboard and entered the next room. Inside they were struck by a horrible odor and turned a corner to see an even bigger troll than the one the first years had faced on Halloween.

“I’m glad we didn’t have to deal with that one,” Harry said, holding his robes over his nose to block the smell.

They moved on through the next door and found a single table with seven bottles standing on a raised plinth in the center of the round room.

The five of them crowded onto the raised ledge and looked at the bottles and the bit of slightly burnt parchment next to them. Hermione lifted it so that she could unfold the paper and see what it said, but the moment she did flames shot up around the room. Black flames covered the doorway to the room ahead, purple ones to the room behind, and around the edge of the rest of the room a ring of emerald green flames sprung up and moved in a strange slow motion—acting not at all like real fire at all.

She read off what the parchment said aloud so everyone could hear:

“ _Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,  
Two of us will help you, whichever you would find,  
One among us seven, will let you move ahead,  
Another will transport the drinker back instead,  
Two among our number, hold only nettle wine,  
Three of us are killers, waiting hidden in line.  
Choose, unless you wish to stay here forevermore,  
To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:  
First, however slyly the pois…_”

She trailed off, looking at the bottles in horror. The green flames around the edge of the room roared a little higher and began to creep across the floor towards the center of the room.

“Well, what’s the rest?” Fred asked, noticing the flames licking across the floor. “We’re all going to roast unless we figure this out fast enough.”

“There isn’t anymore,” Hermione whispered, showing them the parchment. “Whoever got here before us burned off the list of clues. All we know is that two will get us through the flames, two are wine, and three are poison.”

“Right,” George said grimly. “Leave this to us.”

The twins began unstoppering each of the vials, taking sniffs of each one and setting them back in order, though often with one forward here or back there. Fred conferred with his brother about the smallest bottle, and they both seemed to agree that they had no idea what it was. The same seemed true for the bottle furthest on the right.

The flames encroached on the plinth where they stood. Leaving would now mean jumping over them to reach the exits.

“Okay!” Fred announced, pointing at each bottle in line from left to right, “Poison, wine, potion of some sort, poison, poison, wine, another potion.”

“That means the two potions are the ones that get you through the flames on either side!” Hermione said with excitement.

“Yeah, but we can’t tell which is which,” George admitted.

Harry quickly took the smallest bottle and pressed his finger against the tiny opening and upended it to see what it looked like. It was black. Harry grabbed the other potion and did the same, seeing it was purple. The five children exchanged looks.

“There’s only enough of the black one for maybe two people to pass through,” Harry admitted, inching away from the flames that were trying to climb up the side of the stone below them.

“You two go,” Fred said firmly.

“But!” Hermione protested.

“No, he’s right,” George said. “The twins have a much higher stake in all of this. Whoever is in there is probably trying to bring back You-Know-Who.”

The three first years looked at him in surprise.

“Don’t tell me it didn’t occur to you?” Fred asked. “You-Know-Who is number one on my list of people who might want a stone that grants immortal life.”

“You’re right!” Hermione gasped.

“Drink,” Fred and George told the twins sternly.

Harry and Henry took the smallest bottle and drank a sip each before leaping through the flames circling the plinth. Strangely, the green flames didn’t even feel hot now that they had the potion in their system. They walked through the black flames, which felt like a warm tickle along their exposed skin, looking back to see the twins and Hermione jumping into the purple flames across the way.

Pressing forward, they entered the last room and found an unexpected person waiting for them.


	11. The Philosopher's Stone

**Chapter Eleven: The Philosopher’s Stone**

“You?” Henry gasped.

The form turned and a delighted grin suffused his face as he realized who the intruders were. “Potter and Potter. How delightful.” Professor Quirrell took a step closer to them and Henry noticed the gilt mirror that stood behind him. The Mirror of Erised. “I am not surprised to see you here tonight, but I am afraid we have no time to chat. I was just examining this fascinating mirror.” The defense professor turned back around and ran his hands over the frame. “I see myself presenting the Stone to my master, but how do I get it? Do I need to break it?”

“But why are _you_ after the Stone?” Harry asked.

Quirrell laughed maniacally. It didn’t suit the stuttering, cowardly professor they were used to. “I will give it to my master to return him to human form, of course.”

“You don’t mean…?” Harry whispered.

“Yes. The Dark Lord. He found me while I was on a trip through Albania. I alone have had the honor of sharing my body with him.”

“Sharing your body?” Henry asked in horror.

A thin whisper of voice joined the room. “Let me speak with them… face to face.”

The turbaned man looked up, “Master, you are not strong enough!”

“I am strong enough… for this.”

Quirrell began unwrapping his turban from his head. He was quite bald underneath and as he turned they were granted the horrible sight of a second face sticking out of the back of his head. The eyes were a dull red, the nose flat and slitted like a snake, and the lips were thin and white.

“Potter…” Voldemort whispered in a raspy snarl, “We meet… at last.” Quirrell walked backwards towards the twins, who stumbled over their own feet to get away from the terrible face of the Dark Lord. “Do you see what has become of me? Reduced to mere spirit, forced to possess the bodies of animals to survive. _You_ did this to me!” he hissed menacingly.

“You did this to yourself,” Henry answered as calmly as he could. “You’ll never be able to get the Stone from the mirror.”

He laughed. “I suppose Dumbledore is responsible for this gilt artifact. But if I cannot get the Stone, then perhaps someone else can. Use the boy,” Voldemort rasped to Quirrell.

“Yes, of course!” Quirrell turned, and the twins were grateful that the other face was now turned away from them. He grabbed Harry, who was closest, and thrust him in front of the mirror. “What do you see?”

Harry saw himself in the mirror, holding a ruby red stone in the palm of his hand. With a wink the mirror Harry put the Stone in his pocket, and he realized with a start that his own pocket now seemed a little heavier. “I see… my family,” he whispered, doing his best to imitate the hunger and longing that he had felt when he first looked into the mirror and saw those things.

“He lies,” Voldemort hissed.

Henry drew his wand and prepared to fire a curse at the Defense professor. “ _Expell_ …”

“ _Crucio!_ ” Voldemort took control of one of Quirrell’s arms, bending it backwards unnaturally as he raised his wand and fired the pain curse at Henry.

He was on fire. Every nerve ending screamed for release. His body arched off of the ground where he had fallen when first hit by the curse. Ligaments popped and twitched, muscles spasmed. An eternity of pain that ended after thirty seconds.

Moaning, Henry tried to crawl towards his wand that had fallen nearby.

“ _Crucio!_ ” Voldemort cackled as Henry screamed again. Harry’s voice was joining him, but he couldn’t hear it. Both boys experienced the curse simultaneously despite the fact that is was only being cast on Henry. “Curious,” the Dark Lord murmured, releasing the curse.

“Please stop!” Harry gasped from Quirrell’s other hand—the man was clutching the neck of his robes in a fist. “You’re killing him!”

“And how,” Voldemort lay his wand along Harry’s cheek and stared intently down into his eyes, “do you know that?”

“I can feel it,” Harry whispered brokenly. Tears gathered in his eyes as he looked at his brother lying face down on the floor.

“And why is that? Hm?” The Dark Lord kicked Henry over onto his back as he asked.

“Soul… bond.” Henry’s voice was dry and sore sounding.

“ _Soul_ bond?” Voldemort asked. He was silent for several long moments, eyes darting back and forth as the gears turned in his mind.

“Should I kill them, master?” Quirrell asked eagerly.

“No!” Voldemort cried, and Harry thought he could detect actual _horror_ on the man’s snake-like face. He shook Harry slightly. “This one has the Stone in his pocket. Take it and leave them here. I will deal with them at a later date.”

Quirrell turned and manhandled Harry so that he could search his pockets. But the boy grabbed his arm and tried to pull him away. It took them both a moment to realize that his flesh was searing at Harry’s touch, crumbling into ash after only a few seconds of contact.

“What are you doing? The Stone! Get the Stone!” Voldemort ordered.

Harry, realizing his advantage, grabbed Quirrell by the face and watched as the man crumbled beneath his fingers. He felt no pain. There was only a queer sort of tingling feeling under his skin that made him feel safe and warm. It was like his mother was there, hugging him and telling him that everything would be all right.

“NO!” Voldemort screamed. Quirrell’s body dissolved into ash on the floor and a misty ghost-like specter emerged from his shell and disappeared through the wall.

“Hen!” Harry cried, kneeling to help his brother sit up. “Are you all right?”

Henry was clutching his cheek over the curse scar and gritting his teeth in pain. “Hurts,” he muttered.

“What hurts? Your scar?” Harry asked, confused.

The other boy slowly pulled his hand away and was startled to see the blood on his hand.

Harry studied the wound. It looked as though it was newly cut. “But why? If it was because of Voldemort, then why didn’t mine hurt, too?”

“Harry, Henry!” Professor Snape hurtled through the fire in the doorway and sighed with relief to see that both boys were unharmed. “Thank Merlin. Come on, let’s get you to the hospital wing so that Madam Pomfrey can check you out. Dumbledore is here as well.”

“All right,” Henry said tiredly. He sat up and then tried to stand when a feeling like blood rushing to his head came over him. Blinking black spots from his vision, he took one step and promptly passed out. Harry just barely caught him in time.

“Hen…” Harry sighed as the effect of his brother’s fainting spell struck him as well. Snape caught them both before they hit the floor, wondering how he was going to get them out of there now.

-o-0-o-

They woke in the same bed in the hospital, squinting up at a pair of twinkling blue eyes framed by half moon spectacles.

“Welcome back,” said Professor Dumbledore.

The boys sat up, retrieved their own glasses from the table beside the bed and looked questioningly at the Headmaster.

“I expect you have quite a few questions, foremost being how you got here,” he stated.

“I remember Professor Snape coming to get us…” Harry trailed off. Everything was a little blurry after that.

“He did indeed. And he brought you both back up here where Madam Pomfrey treated you. I was wondering if you could tell me what happened to Professor Quirrell and Voldemort?”

“Did you know he was possessing Quirrell this whole time and you didn’t do anything about it?” Henry asked angrily.

“Alas, I did not know. I only suspected. And suspicions are horrible things to act on at the best of times. I had to wait until I was sure to do anything. Unfortunately, that seemed to be too late as well.”

Henry continued to frown slightly at the Headmaster, but didn’t say anything else about the possession. Through his bond with his twin, he could feel a huge wave of guilt building and looked at his brother in concern. Harry’s bottom lip was being nibbled fiercely as he stared at his fisted hands.

“I killed him,” Harry whispered. “When I touched Quirrell’s skin with my hands, he just crumbled away and died. I don’t understand why.”

“Ah, that explains the state of my Defense professor when I found him there. I believe that the answer to your question has something to do with why you both survived the Killing Curse as babies. Your mother died sacrificing her life to save yours. It imbued you with a protection that even Voldemort could not face. A protection in your very skin. Someone as dark and evil as Voldemort would never be able to touch something so pure without feeling pain or even dying.”

Harry nodded hesitantly and slowly relaxed his fists.

“My dear boy,” Dumbledore said sympathetically, “You must understand that even if you had done nothing, Professor Quirrell would have died anyway. By sharing his body with Voldemort, he used up his very life force keeping him alive. Had the Dark Lord suddenly left the Professor’s body, he would have died immediately. It was only a matter of time.”

The younger twin sighed and shook his head. “I still killed him, Professor. Nothing you say will change that.”

The Headmaster nodded reluctantly.

“And my scar?” Henry asked next, desperate to know why his hurt and Harry’s didn’t. “It hurt when Harry killed him, but Harry’s didn’t even twinge.”

“I had noticed that Poppy had to treat the wound, yes. I am curious myself to know why only one of you seems to have such a connection to Voldemort. I would have assumed that if it existed, both of you would feel the same things.”

“So I’m connected to Voldemort? Is this like the soul bond between me and Harry?”

Dumbledore’s eyes lit up as though he had just grasped the final piece of a puzzle. “Perhaps…” he murmured to himself. He pointed at the scar on Henry’s face. “It is conceivable that as the curse rebounded off of you and struck the Dark Lord, it created a soul bond between you and Harry, and between yourself and Voldemort.”

“So, there’s a bit of Voldemort’s soul stuck in my cheek?” Henry asked incredulously.

The Headmaster shook his head. “It would not be in such a specific location. The soul is a complex thing. It is more likely that that tiny piece of Voldemort is a part of the person you are now. Do not be concerned. The worst part seems to be that you have this connection to him. Should he ever regain his body, it would grow even stronger.”

Harry clutched his brother’s hand over the blankets and asked another question. “How did I get the Stone out of the mirror? And where is it now? Is your friend Nicholas Flamel going to be all right?”

“You did do your homework, didn’t you?” Dumbledore chuckled. “It was rather ingenious of me to place it in the mirror. Only someone who wanted to find the Stone, but not use it, would be able to get it free. Otherwise you would just see yourself drinking Elixir or swimming through piles of gold. I fear that Nicholas has decided to destroy the Stone so that no one will be tempted to steal it again. He and his wife will continue to live long enough to set their affairs in order, and then they will move on to life’s next great adventure.”

Henry frowned. “How do you know so much about the mirror? I mean, how did you get the Stone inside of it?”

The old man smiled. “The Mirror of Erised is very old magic. I have spent quite a number of years studying the mirror, and I have learned some of its secrets. Hiding the Stone was simple enough after that.”

The older boy fingered the sheets in his free hand, looking down at his lap. “I saw…” he stopped and glanced at Harry and then quickly looked away, “I saw something in the mirror, but not something I’ve ever wanted…”

“What you saw, Henry, is nothing more than your deepest more heartfelt desire. But just because somewhere in your heart of hearts you want it, it does not mean that it will ever come to pass. Do not dwell overmuch on it. I suspect that when you’re older, other… options, shall we say, will seem more appealing.” He twinkled reassuringly at the boys.

Henry looked at him in horror. “How did you know? I never told anyone!”

Dumbledore patted his arm. “I think that is enough questions for tonight. Madam Pomfrey has granted you both a clean bill of health. The closing feast will be starting in an hour. I do hope you’ll both be able to make it down and join your classmates.” And with that, he quickly disappeared from the ward.

Henry was tightly clutching Harry’s hand in his, his downcast eyes glaring daggers at the bed sheets. A glass of water on the bedside table began to tremble suspiciously before shattering with a sharp crack.

“Hen? What’s wrong? What _did_ you see? You can tell me, you know.”

Taking a deep breath, he tried to calm down. The spilled water from the glass stopped trying to freeze itself. “I saw you.”

“What, that’s it?”

“I saw you kissing me. And I kissed you back,” Henry whispered brokenly.

“Oh.” Harry looked away for a few moments as he thought. When he finally looked back up, he was smiling. “It’s all right.”

Hen looked at him incredulously.

“No, really. It’s all right. I think that our souls are bound closer than anyone can really imagine. I’m not surprised that when you looked in the mirror, you saw us like that. If you think of our souls as two different people joined together, half for half, then I think it’s natural that that kind of closeness could exist. But Dumbledore is right, I don’t think it will matter in a few years. We’ll both find someone else that we like. I’m sure of it.”

His brother hugged him tightly. “Thanks, Harry. But I can’t believe that Dumbledore invaded my privacy like that. I’m not just going to forget it either. He had no right to use whatever he knows about the mirror to find out what I saw.”

Harry nodded against Henry’s hair. “I think you’re right. He seems like a nice old man, but that says a lot about his character. Perhaps we should be more cautious around him.”

Henry nodded and pulled away. “Let’s get down to the feast. I think Slytherin won the House Cup again, even if Gryffindor won the Quidditch Cup finally.”

They changed out of their pajamas into the clean uniforms and robes laid out for them and trekked down to the Great Hall. There was a lull in the conversation when they entered, and a few people actually cheered for them as they went to sit at the Slytherin table for dinner. Ron was already there, sitting beside Draco, while Hermione had joined her friends at the Ravenclaw table.

Dumbledore stood from the head table once the twins were seated. “Another year over already! Tomorrow you will all return home to your families for a summer of fun and relaxation. And tonight we celebrate our last night in Hogwarts by awarding the House Cup!” Slytherin cheered at this. “Yes, congratulations, Slytherin! However, I do have a few last minute points to hand out.” Henry and Draco frowned at each other. They didn’t like the sound of that. “First, to Ms. Hermione Granger, for the use of her extensive knowledge to save her friends from a watery death, I award Gryffindor House fifty points!”

Loud cheers were heard from both the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw tables.

“Second, to Mr. Ronald Weasley, for the best played game of chess Hogwarts has ever seen, and for the sacrifice he made to protect his friends, I award Gryffindor House fifty points!”

Draco clapped Ron on the shoulder with a fond smile as the Gryffindor table cheered again. They were now only fifty points shy of a tie with Slytherin.

Dumbledore raised his hand for silence. “To Messirs Fred and George Weasley, for the use of their entirely secret skill in potions in the face of fire, I award Gryffindor House one hundred points!”

Gryffindor exploded, realizing that they were now beating Slytherin. Fred and George had paled dramatically at the outing of their skills and were looking at Snape’s evil smile and gulping in terror.

“And finally!” the Headmaster cried, “I award Mr. Henry Potter, Mr. Harry Potter, and Mr. Draco Malfoy fifty points each for the bravery, support, and cunning it took to help their friends and come out victorious in the end!”

With a wave of his wand, the hall was redecorated to include the Gryffindor colors and banners along with the Slytherin. They had tied for the House Cup.

“Now, dig in!” Dumbledore retook his seat with the other professors and the plates and platters on all the long tables suddenly filled with an endless array of tasty things. Everyone was in good spirits, for even though Slytherin had still partially won; the inclusion of Gryffindor assured the rest of the school that the snakes’ winning streak was coming to an end.

-o-0-o-

“Harry, Henry!” Hagrid called across the platform to the two Potters as the other students filed onto the Express to head back to London.

“Hello, Hagrid!” Harry greeted the half-giant cheerfully.

“Where are yer things?” he asked, confused. “Aren’t you takin’ the train home fer the summer?”

“Nope!” Henry cried with an infectious grin. “Dumbledore told us we could come see out friends off, but he’s going to take us to our new summer guardian after the train leaves.”

The twins waved to the compartment they were standing near, where all of their friends were clustered close to the window, as the train started to move out of the platform. Everyone had traded promises to write, though Draco had said it may not be possible for him because of his father. To even Henry’s surprise, the blond Slytherin had kept his friendship with the Potters, Weasley, and Granger a secret from his family for reasons they didn’t understand and that Draco was reluctant to explain.

They walked slowly back up to the castle with Hagrid after the train disappeared around a bend through the trees.

“I hope y’ll be stayin in Hogsmeade for the summer,” Hagrid said. “Y’ll be close enough to come visit. I’m goin ter be working with some of the beasts that live in the forest, if you’d like ter take a look. Might even be able ter help me if I can get Dumbledore’s say-so.”

They readily agreed to do so if they could and greeted the Headmaster as they reached the steps of the castle.

“I have had the house elves take your things ahead. You will be staying in Hogsmeade with my brother this summer.” The old man twinkled brightly at them.

“Professor, would it be all right if they came ter visit me occasionally? Only I told ‘em about the beasts I’ll be seeing ter, and…”

“Of course, Hagrid.” He turned to smile at the twins. “You’re welcome to wander around Hogsmeade and the grounds of Hogwarts as much as you please this summer, but not in the castle itself. I will be working with a few of the professors to strengthen the wards after that little fiasco with the Stone and I wouldn’t want you to stumble in at the wrong time. Warding can be very delicate, and Hogwarts is very temperamental.”

“Excellent!” they said in unison, grinning from ear to ear.

“Well, then. If you would follow me? Good day Hagrid.” The Headmaster led them down the long path that led from the school to Hogsmeade. “I should warn you before we arrive that my brother, Aberforth, and I do not particularly get along. He may say things about me that you will find most surprising. I wish to assure you that he is simply casting aspersions on my name.”

“What happened to cause you to fight like that?” Henry asked.

“I fear he blames me for our sister’s death. In truth, I do not know who is responsible. He and I had a fight with a good friend of mine and she was caught in the middle. By the time we realized she had been hit by a stray spell, it was too late.” The twinkle died from his eyes and they shone with a suspicious brightness.

“I’m sorry Professor,” Harry whispered, Henry murmuring his agreement.

“Oh, it was many years ago. I have had a long time to get over it. But as is the case with accidental death, it is always hard to rid oneself of feelings of guilt and pain.” They approached the little town and proceeded from the main road onto a dingy little side street and a worn-down old establishment called the Hog’s Head. “I don’t know why he won’t let me clean this place up,” Dumbledore informed them, “but over the past few weeks I have added numerous wards and enchantments to insure your protection here. And despite our falling out, I know Abe will take good care of you.”

They entered to find a dusty and dirty bar room that was even gloomier than the outside of the building, if that was possible. A few rather sketchy looking patrons were nursing drinks under long black cloaks at various intervals around the room, and a man with graying auburn hair was polishing a dirty glass with an even dirtier cloth behind the bar.

“Albus,” the barkeep growled.

“Aberforth. These are Harry and Henry Potter.” He gestured to each boy in turn. “I will leave you to get settled and get to know each other,” he told the twins. “Farewell!” Albus swept out of the room back into the street, leaving the boys and the man staring at one another for several moments.

At last Abe smiled. “I have quite a bit to share with you boys, but why don’t I show you to your room first?”

Nodding, the twins followed him upstairs, surprised to find a cozy and well-kept living room complete with couch and muggle telly. He motioned to four doors, two on each side of the room. “My room is the first on the left. I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t go in there without my permission when the door is closed. If it’s open and I’m home, feel free to knock. The second door on that side is the bathroom. Your room is the first door on the right.” He opened the door to reveal a very nice bedroom with a single four-poster, a wardrobe, and a standing mirror on a small table. It was decorated in tasteful midnight blue with shooting stars and constellations picked out on the comforter and climbing the walls. They were delighted to see that the stars moved across the walls in bright flashes every few minutes. Their trunks were placed on opposite sides of the room next to each end of the bed situated under a window. “Next door is a study room of sorts. There are two desks and I found some of my brother, sister, and my toys from when we were kids and placed them in a chest in there as well.” He winked brightly at them.

“This is amazing, Mr. Dumbledore,” Henry breathed.

“Please, call me Abe. I’ll leave you to get settled and come find me when you want some lunch. I’ll start telling you things you’ll need to know before you start your next school year as well.” He swept out the door and returned to the bar downstairs.

The twins exchanged glances. “I wonder what he’s going to tell us?” Harry asked.

“Well, if Dumbledore is to be believed, I would imagine he is going to try to turn us against the Headmaster.” Henry grinned. “If that’s his aim, it shouldn’t be too hard. I think it will be interesting to hear the take of someone close to our dear Professor.”

They unpacked their clothes into the wardrobe, their books and supplies into the room next door, and took some time to explore the chest of toys in the corner. When lunchtime came, their stomachs ordered them downstairs and they sat down to a delicious looking meal prepared by Abe.

“Now.” He poured them both glasses of pumpkin juice and picked up his fork. “The first thing you should know is that Albus was good friends with Gellert Grindelwald.”

The twins stared at him in surprise. It was going to be an interesting summer.

-o-0-o-


	12. A Very Interesting Summer

**Chapter Twelve: A Very Interesting Summer ******

Henry sighed, staring at the stack of letters on his desk. It was a month into the summer holidays, and every single letter he tried sending to Draco had been returned. Aside from talking to his brother or Abe, he only really had the occasional letter to and from Ron and Hermione, and sometimes Blaise or Pansy to keep him occupied now that his summer work was done.

He stood and stared out the little window of the study room. Harry was down there helping Abe feed the goats. His little brother seemed to have developed a knack for animal care after their many stints up at the castle helping Hagrid with his beasts. The goats still puzzled them both—every last one of them was male, but neither had worked up the courage to ask why yet.

Abe had filled them in on one Albus Dumbledore over the past month. Aside from the shocking news that the Headmaster was once in love with Grindelwald, they hadn’t really heard any surprising news. They had been told Abe’s version of the story of their sister’s death. Dumbledore had told the truth when he said that it was impossible to tell who had accidentally killed her, but he hadn’t mentioned that Ariana could not care for herself and that he had neglected his responsibility of her while friends with Grindelwald. The fight in which she died was between all three men with the dark wizard wanting to send her to St. Mungo’s, Albus wanting to hire a caretaker, and Abe wanting to take care of her himself.

Harry had spent a lot of time in quiet conversation with the portrait of Ariana Dumbledore that hung over the mantel in the silent bar. She spoke very little, but was an angel when listening to someone else’s troubles. Henry wasn’t sure why, but every time the Headmaster was mentioned around Harry, he now went all cold and stiff and refused to talk about him. Of course, as far as he was concerned, this was a good thing. Aside from the invasion of his privacy, he didn’t trust the way Dumbledore had told his brother how the mirror worked or how he had suspected Quirrell but done nothing about it. It was as though the Headmaster wanted them to face near death so that they would come out stronger in the end. It made no sense coming from a man whose profession demanded that he protect the children under his care.

Sighing, Henry glanced at the letters on his desk again. He had attempted to talk to Draco about all of these worries, but the letters hadn’t gone through. Maybe he should write to Blaise or Pansy and ask if they knew what was going on with his best friend. At the very least, maybe he could find out when Draco was going to Diagon Alley for his supplies and waylay him there.

-o-0-o-

Harry grinned at the bleating white head with the curling horns that was head butting him, trying to get some more of the grain in the bag he was holding. Aberforth had six goats that he kept in separate pens in the back yard of the Hog’s Head. Every single one of them was white with long curled horns over their ears and well-kept little beards on their chins. All of them were also male. Harry had decided that today he was finally going to ask the question he and Hen had been pondering all summer.

“Abe?” he asked, starting out casually.

“Hm?” was the grunted reply.

“Why are all of your goats male? And why do you keep them in separate pens?”

The older man stopped and turned to look at the boy who was trying unsuccessfully to remove the corner of his grain bag from the goat’s stubborn teeth. Harry was obviously trying to appear nonchalant.

“Gryffindors,” he muttered softly under his breath. “No tact.” Raising his voice, he decided to sate the boy’s curiosity, “They aren’t male.”

Harry paused, leaning slightly to the side to glance between the legs of the goat he was feeding and then at the ones in the pens on either side. “I beg to differ.”

Abe grinned. “They aren’t male. They aren’t female either. They’re both.”

“BOTH?” Harry asked incredulously. “How? Why?”

The bartended laughed to himself as he remembered how it had started. “When I was much younger, I decided to get Albus back a bit more properly than just breaking his nose. So I started working on inventing a charm to let men get pregnant. I figured I’d just cast it on old Albus once I got it right, and then he’d get himself in trouble and be the first wizard to give birth.” He laughed again. “Of course, I wasn’t thinking about the poor child born from my brother, but that’s beside the point now.”

“So what happened?” Harry had stopped fighting the goat and was watching Abe with round eyes.

“Well, I had it near about perfect, but I needed to test it. And I wasn’t about to test it on myself, mind. But I happened to have a pair of male goats that, well, were rather _fond_ of each other, if you get my meaning.”

Harry nodded.

“So I cast it on one of them and then waited a few weeks to see what happened. Soon enough it became apparent that ol’ Al was pregnant.” Abe pointed to the ugly old goat that he had named after his brother. “So I went ahead and cast it on my brother. Of course he ruined it by not getting involved with anyone after Gellert, but it’s just as well.” He shook his head ruefully as he looked at the penned up goats. “Turns out, the spell worked the way I planned, but for one flaw. Every goat born after that has been both male and female. I think muggles call them hermaphrodites. Except for these guys, both sets of organs are functional. So they can both get pregnant and make the others pregnant. That’s why I have to keep them separate.”

Harry looked at the goat next to him with wide eyes. “Isn’t creating and testing a charm like that kind of… illegal?” he asked finally.

Abe sighed and nodded. “Yeah. The ministry gave me a pretty hefty fine for doing it. And I have to keep this little herd here separate from other goats until they all pass away. I’m _still_ working on paying them off. I’d probably have managed it by now if I weren’t so determined to keep Albus away from my bar.” He winked at the Gryffindor boy, whom he had shared a little secret with the week before.

The Hog’s Head wasn’t really dirty. It was simply covered floor to ceiling in charms to make it _appear_ dirty and badly kept. There were smearing charms on all the glasses, potions stains on every rag, apron, and tablecloth, magical cobwebs covered the ceiling and filled corners, stubbornly resistant to being swatted down by a broomstick. The regular patrons were in on the joke, and it was considered polite to wear a dark hooded cloak into the bar to add to the atmosphere.

Harry shook his head in amazement at his summer guardian. “So the Headmaster is a… a hermaphrodite?”

Abe grinned. “Yup. The Ministry never bothered to make a counter for it, and my dear brother never admitted that I had cast it on him. And that’s a rumor I dare you to spread around the school this coming year. I can’t wait for Albus to come down here and demand to know what stories I’ve been spreading around about him.” He frowned, realizing that that would make Albus visit him. “On second thought, maybe you had better not.”

Harry howled with laughter and went back to feeding the goats.

-o-0-o-

On the morning of July 31st, the boys came downstairs to find their Potions professor sitting at the bar, wrapped in a hooded cloak and wearing a scowl.

“Professor!” Harry cried in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

Snape grimaced, lowering his hood. “The Headmaster has somehow managed to coerce me into taking you to Diagon Alley again this year. I have come to collect you.”

“Excellent!” Henry said. “Draco will be there today as well. I asked the Headmaster if we could go today, but he told me he wasn’t sure if someone would be available.”

Snape’s eyes fastened onto Henry’s. “You have been in contact with Draco?”

He shook his head sadly. “I had to ask some of the other Slytherins to ask him when he was going. All my letters keep getting returned when I send them.”

The Professor nodded. “Very well, come along. Abe, I will speak with you some more when I return,” he promised the barkeeper.

The trio used the floo connection in the Hog’s Head to travel to the Leaky Cauldron in London before making their way into the alley.

“What sort of marks did you receive at the end of last year?” the Professor asked curiously, leading them to Gringotts.

“I think Hermione had top marks in almost everything for our year,” Harry volunteered, “but I had the highest grade in DADA and Henry somehow managed to beat out Draco in your class, sir.”

Snape smirked. “I’m sure he will be quite upset with you over that, Mr. Potter,” he told Henry.

They trundled down to the vault and refilled their moneybags for the year. Reemerging from the darkness of the bank, they saw that there was some sort of event being held at Flourish and Blotts.

“No doubt the idiot Dumbledore hired for Defense this year is making a nuisance of himself.” Snape sneered. “Let’s get your books last. Hopefully by then the crowd will have dissipated and Henry can spend a little more time perusing books, since he could not last year.” He smiled down at his student and led them first into the apothecary.

“Two second year ingredient sets,” Henry asked politely. “Professor, neither of us has grown enough for new robes, so other than ingredients and books, we only really need to visit the creature store to get treats for Serash and Hedwig and get Harry a broom at the Quidditch store.”

“A broom, Mr. Potter?” Snape asked, looking at Harry.

The boy blushed. “I’m going to try out for seeker on the Gryffindor team this year, sir. And I know Draco is doing the same for Slytherin, so I’m going to need a good enough broom to keep up with him.”

“And I take it you aren’t much of a Quidditch player?” he asked Henry.

“No, sir.” Hen grinned. “I prefer my books, thanks.”

Snape gave him a strangely fond smile and led them across the street to the Magical Menagerie. Harry got some owl treats, while Henry pretended to get some for cats but actually bought a bag of desiccated mice for his snake familiar that could be reconstituted with a simple charm. It would be nice to have something to give his pet when the snake was unable to hunt anything himself.

Their final stop before the bookstore was Quality Quidditch Supplies. Despite his lack of interest in the game, Henry still enjoyed looking over the sleek designs that had been released over the summer in preparation for World Cup tryouts. There were two new top line brooms that Harry was having trouble choosing between. The baby blue Cirrus 6000 was the more well rounded of the two, with equal ability in speed, breaking, and maneuverability, and capable of higher altitudes than most brooms. But the Nimbostratus 10 had raw power and speed, which better suited Harry’s seeker abilities.

“Get the Cirrus,” Snape told him.

Harry looked up at him curiously. “Why?”

“It is more deceptive,” the professor explained, “It may not be as fast or as powerful as the other broom, but I think with your abilities you will be able to get more out of it. You may be a seeker, but from what I have seen of your flying, you perform more towards agility than brute strength. The Nimbostratus would only suit a very few number of seekers I have seen fly. You are not one of them.”

Henry nodded at the man’s assessment. “He’s right. You need a broom that will let you turn the other way at top speed. Only the Cirrus will do that.”

After considering the thunder grey Nimbostratus for another moment, Harry decided they were right and found a sales clerk to request one of the Cirrus models.

“Sixty galleons,” the man told him, not moving to get the broom until he was sure the kid could pay.

Harry handed over the money with no argument and a few minutes later left the store with a lightly wrapped broomstick in one hand.

“Books?” Henry asked the professor eagerly.

“Books.” Snape hid a smile by looking away.

The activity around the bookstore had, thankfully, died down to almost nothing. Apparently whoever had been drawing the crowd was now gone.

“Who _is_ the new Defense professor?” Harry asked curiously. “And please tell me he’s not as worthless as Quirrell was.”

Henry blanched as they entered and were confronted with a giant cardboard cutout of a blue-eyed blond-haired man winking and smiling at them with his blindingly white teeth. “No,” he whispered in horror.

“Yes,” Snape grumbled.

“The new DADA professor is worse than Quirrell, Har. He’s a fraud. A completely worthless lay about who only cares about one thing: himself.”

Harry looked at the poster his brother was staring at with horror. “ _This_ guy? How do you know anything about him?”

“I got all those extra books last year, remember? Every single one that mentions defense says that this guy is the absolute worst authority on DADA. _How_ in the name of _Merlin_ did he get the job at Hogwarts?” Henry asked Snape.

The dark-eyed man sneered. “Charm.”

“We’re meant to buy his entire series!” Harry cried indignantly.

Henry snorted. “Don’t bother. Second year we should be studying more creatures and start in on minor curses. Follow me, I’ll find us some useful books to study instead of Lockhart’s masterpieces of fraud.”

They walked around the corner towards the defense section and came upon Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy practically lunging at each others’ throats. As soon as Draco’s father saw the Potters round the corner, however, he stuffed something small in his hand inside of a tattered copy of _Beginning Potions_ and dropped it into the youngest Weasley’s cauldron.

“Good day, _Arthur_ ,” he snarled before motioning to the previously hidden form of Draco and stalking past the Potters and Snape on his way out of the shop. As the blond boy passed Henry, he thrust a folded piece of parchment into his chest and let it go. Henry just managed to catch it and watched the Malfoys leave the shop.

“What was that about, Mr. Weasley?” Harry asked, approaching the group of red heads. He shared a smile with Ron and raised his eyebrows when the girl holding the cauldron blushed furiously and promptly dropped it.

“I’m not entirely sure,” Arthur admitted. “It was somewhat uncharacteristic of Lucius to pick a fight with me so violently and publicly.”

Henry gallantly picked up Ginny Weasley’s cauldron and the potions book that had fallen out of it and returned them to her with a smile.

“Th-thank you,” she stuttered.

“No problem.” Hen grinned.

Mrs. Weasley was studying the shelves of Lockhart’s books with a worried frown. “I don’t understand why they don’t have any used copies. I mean, he’s a popular, brilliant man, but surely _someone_ would return a book every once in a while?”

“Mrs. Weasley?” Harry said. “Hen was telling me that he could find us better books for this year among the regular defense section. I’m sure there would be used versions with the same information. The new DADA professor is only asking for Lockhart’s books because he _is_ Lockhart.”

“Really, dear?” Molly asked Henry, who nodded reassuringly. “In that case, could you pick out a first year book for Ginny and whatever books you’re getting for Ron? She’ll be starting Hogwarts this year and it seems that only the students through third year need the full set, so the twins and Percy are fine.”

“Sure thing, Mrs. Weasley.” Henry started perusing the defense section, pocketing the letter from Draco and something else as he filled a basket with books for the others. “Harry, why don’t you look at these too?” he asked. “Since you’re top of the year in DADA, you should find these more interesting than most of your other textbooks.”

“Oh, all right.” Harry sighed and squatted down to look at one of the lower shelves. A book on dueling techniques immediately caught his eye.

“Here you go, Mrs. Weasley.” Henry handed over a basket that had two defense books for Ron and one for Ginny, all of them reasonably well cared for used books.

“Thank you very much, dear. I’ll just go pay for these, then. Why don’t you and Harry grab the rest of your books and we can all go eat at the Leaky Cauldron for lunch?” she offered.

“Can we?” Harry pleaded to Snape with big eyes. He was holding a small stack of defense books in addition to the other required texts for this year.

The professor sighed. “I suppose. Merlin knows I’d rather take my time getting back to the castle. Albus has been running me ragged trying to finish the repairs on the wards before September 1st.”

The two boys quickly paid for their books before the potions professor could change his mind.

Lunch in the Leaky was a splendid affair. All of the younger Weasleys plus their parents, the Potters, and Snape took over the largest table in the center of the pub and shared a delicious meal. The younger children caught up with one another and Henry quickly realized that Ginny had a horrible crush on both he and Harry. Hero-worship one might call it. She barely spoke a word through the whole meal, and kept dropping bits of sandwich and chips in her lap every time one of them looked at her. He decided that it was rather nice, even if he was too far from proper puberty to really appreciate the attention and reciprocate.

At the end of the meal, everyone promised to meet on the platform and share a compartment back to school and the twins plus Snape flooed back to the Hog’s Head with all of their purchases.

Harry and Henry both dashed upstairs to put their things away while the Potions Master loitered around the bar with his hood back up as Abe brought him a shot of firewhiskey.

Harry came back down the stairs with his broom in hand to show Abe a few minutes later and was just rounding the corner into the bar area when he heard he and Henry’s names.

“And the Potters?” Snape was asking softly, “They’ve been safe here this summer? No one has bothered them?”

“Albus made sure no one would be able to. It’s kept out some of my better customers, but they’ve been well protected, rest assured.”

“Lucius has been in contact with Him.”

Abe paused while wiping off a glass to stare at the man across the bar from him.

“He wants them protected as well,” Severus continued.

“Why?”

“I don’t know.” Severus sighed and drained his shot in one gulp. “Keep one eye on them always, Abe.” The Potions Master set down his glass and placed three sickles beside it before leaving without another backward glance.

Abe set down the cloth and the glass with a sigh and glanced at the portrait of Ariana. “What should I do, little sister?”

Harry tiptoed away from the corner and back upstairs.

“I thought you were going to Hogwarts to test that out?” Henry asked, glancing up from the letter Draco had handed him.

Harry quickly repeated the conversation he had overheard between Abe and Snape.

Henry sighed and held up his letter. “I think you had better read this. It seems several people have recently taken an interest in our welfare.”

Harry took the letter and read it slowly.

 _Dear Henry,_

 _I want to apologize first, because your letters can’t get through the new wards father has placed on the manor. He has ordered me to drop my friendships with you, Harry, Ron, and Hermione and just stick to the others in Slytherin that he approves of. As a result, any letters from you or them can’t get through._

 _I think I may have almost gotten him to reconsider you and Harry, though. But now I don’t think that’s such a good thing. Two weeks ago a strange man came to the manor and my father has been spending most of his time catering to his every whim. I don’t know who he is, and he always goes around wearing a black cloak with the hood up to hide his face. It’s so frustrating not to even know what he looks like! But I think I don’t really want to know. He really creeps me out, Hen. And he’s dangerous. I think it’s because of him that father is reconsidering my friendship with you and your brother. He’s got these notions now that if I’m friends with you, it will be easier for him and his “associates” to control you._

 _The only thing that I’ve been able to find out is that something is going to happen at Hogwarts this year. Father was rather keen on the idea of timing our trip to Diagon Alley to coincide with the Weasleys. I hope to give you this letter there, and one for Ron as well. Share it with Harry, I’ve told Ron to do the same when he sees Hermione. Then burn it. I have no idea what’s going to happen, but I don’t want my friends to be in danger because of one of my father’s schemes._

 _One more thing, Henry. Whatever is going to happen, father wants you and Harry to be well out of it. Someone (I suspect our illustrious guest) wants you protected. I’ll come to your compartment on the train to threaten everyone. Give me your reply then._

 _Stay safe,  
Draco_

“Voldemort?” Harry asked. Hen nodded. “Do you think he’s found a new body and is staying with the Malfoys now?”

“Exactly. And that’s not all. I know why Mr. Malfoy wanted to be in Diagon when the Weasleys were there. He slipped this diary into Ginny’s potions book when he put it back in her cauldron.” Henry showed the small leather journal to his brother. He felt strangely fascinated by it, as though it was something he used to own that he had only recently found again.

Harry examined the book, flipping through the blank pages and running his fingers over the embossed letters on the front. “TMR?”

“I would assume that is the name of the prior owner. I’ve tried thinking of wizard families that have last names starting with ‘R’ and the list is rather short.”

“Ravenclaw,” Harry agreed. “Though I’m sure there are other less famous ones that we don’t know about. Wait, there was a Demelza Robins on the quidditch team for Gryffindor last year. But she’s graduated now. Could be her family.”

“Maybe,” Henry said reluctantly. “There’s a couple other students with ‘R’ last names, but somehow I doubt it has anything to do with them. That diary looks pretty old, despite the nice condition it’s in. Could be someone’s parents’ I guess.”

“There’s also the fact it could belong to a muggle or muggleborn or someone like Seamus whose dad is a muggle. The name could be anything really.”

“I’d have to research the lines of those we know of when we get back to school to find out for sure,” Henry said. He hesitated. “I’ve been thinking…”

“I was wondering when you were going to tell me your idea for this thing.” Harry grinned.

Hen smiled sheepishly. “There’s no way that’s just a blank diary. Otherwise, Mr. Malfoy wouldn’t have tried to give it to Ginny. He hates the Weasleys. It’s probably something dangerous.”

Harry nodded. “What do you suggest?”

“I think one of us should write in it and see what happens. Just an ink spot on the page. We can destroy it later, but I’d like to know what we’re dealing with first.”

“All right. You write in it. Let me fetch my wand and I’ll cover your back just in case something happens.”

“Why me?” Hen complained, sitting down at his desk and laying the book on top.

“Who got the best marks in defense?” Harry teased. “Just hang on a tic, and I’ll grab my wand.”

Henry pulled out one of his quills, wiping dried ink from the nib and dipping it into the pot of black on the corner of the desk. Harry returned. “Right, go ahead.” As his brother brandished his wand at the book, Hen opened it and rested his loaded quill against the clean parchment. A large black spot soaked into the page and, as they watched, was absorbed.

“ _Definitely_ not normal,” Harry muttered.

“I’m going to try asking who ‘TMR’ is,” Henry said. He wrote out the sentence and watched as the ink disappeared once more. This time, however, a new stream of ink appeared in someone else’s handwriting.

 _‘Tom Marvolo Riddle. Who are you?’_

Henry slammed the book shut and threw it into an empty drawer on the desk, his face pale.

“Right. Well now we have a name to look up. I don’t like the fact that it can hold a conversation, though,” said Harry.

“Me either. Let’s leave it alone until school starts. We can find out who that is and then destroy it.”

“Why not get rid of it now?” Harry asked, confused.

Henry hesitated. Why not? “Because… knowing who it belonged to might not answer the question of what the diary has to do with what Mr. Malfoy is planning at the school. We might have to ask it more questions if that’s the case.”

“All right.” Harry frowned at his brother. Hen was staring intently at the closed drawer, a fine line of sweat forming in the creases on his forehead. He pulled his twin to his feet. “Come on, let’s go read some of those books you picked up for us. Might as well do it before school starts.”

“You’re not going to go flying?” Hen asked in surprise. A weight seemed to lift from his shoulders once they left the study room.

“Nah. I can go tomorrow. I’m actually pretty interested in reading that book on dueling I found. After Flitwick’s duel for the Stone last year, I feel like it would be good to know how.”

“All right.” Henry glanced back at the closed door to the study but followed Harry into their room to select a book to read. A niggling feeling in the back of his mind kept distracting him from the first chapter, so he eventually gave up and went downstairs to help Abe with the dinner patrons.

That night, Henry dreamt of a boy who looked remarkably like himself and Harry. He was taller, and older, with well-kept black hair that just reached his collar and stormy grey-green eyes. He whispered things in Henry’s ear all night. And in the morning, he couldn’t remember what he had dreamt about at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MUWAHAHAHAHAHA!! Please read and review! P.S.—I realize that I had totally forgotten about Serash (or really, didn’t have any reason to bring him up) but he’s not going to be essential to this story. I just wanted Henry to have a better handle on his Parseltongue before year two and to have a familiar that wasn’t an owl.


	13. Hidden Secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why is it so much fun to be so _mean_ to my characters?

Henry scribbled furiously across the page: “When did you go to Hogwarts?”

_‘Fifty years or so ago, I think. Dumbledore was the Transfiguration professor then.’_

“Old fart.” Henry smiled as he wrote. He was really starting to like Tom.

 _‘Indeed.’_ The sarcasm was palpable even without a voice to match it. It was probably close to one in the morning. Henry had taken to writing in the diary after Harry had gone to sleep. He couldn’t seem to stay away from the thing, no matter how guilty he felt for keeping it secret from his twin. And after his initial fright of having an object actually answer him back, he found that it was rather like exchanging instant letters with someone. It felt like he was talking to someone that really understood him—it helped that Tom was a Slytherin as well.

“Was everyone biased against Slytherin then as well?”

_‘I don’t know what it’s like now, but the Gryffindors have always been deplorable. I was one of the few snakes that the professors seemed to treat fairly. Everyone but Dumbledore, that is. He always suspected me.’_

“Suspected you? What happened?”

_‘Have you ever heard of the Chamber of Secrets?’_

Henry frowned at the page, vaguely remembering that it had been mentioned in _Hogwarts, A History_. Perhaps this had something to do with Mr. Malfoy’s plot for the school this year? “I’ve read mentions of it, but nothing specific.”

_‘When I was in school, Slytherin’s heir returned and re-opened the Chamber. Apparently Slytherin created a room under the school in secret from the rest of the Founders and left a monster there that would emerge to attack the mudblood students of the school when his heir called it.’_

“What happened?” Henry asked. “And, I hope you don’t mind my asking this, but could you not call them mudbloods? One of my best friends is muggleborn.”

_‘My apologies. Well, during my sixth year the monster was released and a student died as a result of the attacks. I caught a boy named Rubeus Hagrid who was keeping a dangerous beast in the castle, and he was tried for releasing the monster from the Chamber.’_

“Hagrid?” Henry wrote with shock. “He’s the groundskeeper now. He does like his dangerous beasts, but he wouldn’t hurt a fly!”

_‘I assure you, Henry, I only caught him with a monster. It was Headmaster Dippet who had him expelled and sent to Azkaban. As I understand it, Dumbledore later had him freed because there was no proof that Hagrid was responsible. Regardless, after he was caught the attacks stopped completely.’_

Henry sat back from the desk to think this over. It was definitely plausible that Lucius Malfoy might want the Chamber of Secrets to be opened again, but there was no way that a diary, that _Tom_ , would be capable of doing it. But he still hadn’t found out what Tom had to do with any plans for the coming year. He hesitantly dipped his quill and penned a new line, “Do you know how to open the Chamber?”

It took longer than usual for the ink to reappear. _‘Do you know the gift of Slytherin’s line?’_

Henry scoffed. Every Slytherin learned that their first year. “Of course. They were all parselmouths.”

_‘Then it is most plausible that only a parselmouth would be capable of opening the Chamber. That is why it can only be opened when Slytherin’s heir returns.’_

The dark-haired boy decided not to mention his own ability with the language. He still wasn’t sure where he and Harry had gotten it, but he doubted they were descendents of the Founder. With a large yawn, he wrote his farewell, “I should get some sleep. Harry has been pestering me about why I seem so tired all the time.”

_‘Wait! Will you tell me more about what the world is like right now?’_

He sighed, but decided a few more sentences couldn’t hurt. But he was soon enthralled by the diary again and related the tale of he and Harry’s defeat of the Dark Lord, absently rubbing his twinging scar every once in a while.

-o-0-o-

Harry woke and immediately noticed that Henry was missing. After dressing, he tiptoed from the room and went next door to find his brother sprawled across his desk, the diary of Tom Riddle resting below his cheek.

With a sigh, he considered his options. It was clear that the diary was exerting some sort of control over his brother. He could take it and destroy it, but he did not want to anger Henry. It may be better just to hide it until they could find out more about the previous owner when school started.

He gently lifted his twin’s head from the book and pulled it out from under him. The pages were clean, leaving no evidence of their previous conversation. Harry closed it and returned to their room. In the bottom of his trunk he found a dirty sock and stuffed the diary into it, then placed the wrapped book into the almost empty box of chocolate frogs he had received from Hermione at the end of last year. It was not the best hiding place, but it was the best he could do for now.

That done, he decided to leave his brother to his sleep and go for a morning flight at Hogwarts while the bartender slept off the long night of tending the Hog’s Head.

-o-0-o-

Henry could feel the uncomfortable sticky feeling of his own drool under his cheek. He way lying on something hard instead of the comfortable bed he was supposed to be sharing with Harry. The memory that he had been writing to the diary until much later than he planned surface and he bolted upright, staring at the surface of his desk where the diary ought to be. It was gone.

Panicking, he bolted from the room and entered the bedroom, instinct driving him to Harry’s trunk. A box of chocolate frog cards lying on top immediately caught his eye and he opened it to find a familiar sock-wrapped shape. Harry had taken the diary and tried to hide it from him. A blind rage shot through him for several long moments. The wrappers on the frogs curled around the edges and the chocolates inside melted to their wizard cards. Blinking at his emotional roller coaster, he reminded himself that this was _Harry_. His little brother was just trying to protect him because he didn’t know the diary the way Henry did. 

The sound of Harry’s voice downstairs as he spoke to someone made him act quickly. He pulled the diary from the sock and picked one of Harry’s schoolbooks that was about the same size to replace it. The sock wrapped book was returned to the box, the lid was closed, and the trunk re-latched. Henry decided to secret the diary on his person to keep it safe. One of the large pockets on his robe did the work nicely.

He then returned to bed, recognizing that he was still tired and that confronting Harry just then was probably not the best of ideas. He was asleep again even before Harry made it back up the stairs to put his broom away.

-o-0-o-

 _September 1st—King’s Cross Station, London_

Harry greeted Hermione with a grin and a hug, clasping hands with Ron once he had let her go. Abe had been instructed to let them floo to the station so that he and Henry could take the train with their friends. With a frown, he watched as his twin drug his trunk onto the train, completely ignoring their friends.

The morning that he had discovered his brother with the diary, he had returned from flying to find the older boy asleep in bed. Worried that he might have tried to find the book while Harry was gone, he had checked the hiding place in his trunk. The shape was still there in the same place he had left it. He had been relieved at first and tried to get Henry to spend more of their last month of summer together. But despite the disappearance of the diary, Henry grew more and more withdrawn and disappeared for hours at a time into the edge of the forest around Hogsmeade.

His brother had barely spoken to him in weeks.

“What’s he being such a git for?” Ron asked, glaring after the Slytherin boy as he disappeared into the train.

Harry just shook his head. He had repacked his trunk the night before and found that the book in the dirty old sock was not, in fact, the diary. Henry had probably been writing in the thing for close to a month now without him knowing about it. “Let me handle it, all right?” he asked them seriously.

Hermione nodded worriedly and Ron frowned darkly but agreed regardless.

The trio spent a few more minutes on the platform to say farewell to their families. Hermione’s parents were a brown-haired man and woman who looked distinctly nervous and out of place, but quite kind.

On the train, they found Henry sitting in a compartment alone, a familiar (to Harry) leather-bound book in his hands and a self-inking quill clenched in his fingers. Motioning for Ron and Hermione to step back Harry drew his wand, threw open the door, and yanked the book from his brother’s grip, a well aimed _incendio_ striking the book on the floor of the compartment.

“NO!” Henry screamed.

The book smoldered for a few moments before the flames hissed balefully and died, leaving it completely untouched. Henry quickly picked it up and hid it in his robes again. “What did you do that for!?” he yelled at Harry, a murderous glare on his face as he drew his wand on his own flesh and blood.

“Give it to me.” Harry held out his hand calmly, used by now to Henry’s wild mood swings over the past month.

“Sod off, Potter,” he snarled, then shouldered past the three second years standing in the doorway and left for a different area of the train.

Noticing his friends’ questioning looks, Harry sighed and motioned them into the compartment, closing the door gently behind them and casting a silencing barrier. “The book is a diary that belonged to someone named Tom Marvolo Riddle. I don’t know exactly what it is, but it’s exerting some kind of control over Hen. I’m sure you noticed he’s not himself.”

Hermione shook her head slowly. “If it’s just a bit of leather and paper…”

“No.” Harry stopped her. “When you write in it, the pages absorb the ink. If you write to it as though it’s a real diary, it answers back. That’s how we found out who the previous owner was, since the cover only has his initials on it.”

Ron blanched. “Dad always says not to trust something that can think for itself when you can’t see the mind behind it.”

“Harry, we need to get that book away from him. It’s probably really dangerous, dark magic,” Hermione said.

“I know. But I don’t know how. You saw him—he carries it with him everywhere. I thought I had gotten it away from him earlier this summer, but I discovered last night that he had replaced the diary with a book about the same size and shape. He’s been writing in it all month.”

Ron nibbled his lip thoughtfully. “If you could get it away from him, Hermione and I could hold him back while you ran away and hid it. But you’d have to find a place where he would never find it again.”

Harry nodded and tried to think. It would be easier to hide the diary in the castle—there were loads more places to hide something than there had been in the Hog’s Head. He just needed a place that no one else would be able to get into…

Hermione noticed when the green eyes lit up and asked, “You’ve thought of someplace?”

“Where?” asked Ron.

“I won’t tell you. It’s better if you don’t know, since Hen will be really mad when I make a run for it with the book. But I think I know a place where he won’t be able to find it. Now, here’s what we’re going to do…”

They plotted until Draco came to taunt them with Crabbe and Goyle just before they arrived at Hogsmeade Station. Harry thrust a piece of crumpled parchment at him, telling him to keep his poorly written homework to himself. Everyone but Draco’s Slytherin cronies understood that it was a letter, though the blond boy did look concerned that Henry was not with them in the compartment.

-o-0-o-

They waited until after the Sorting ceremony and the welcoming feast to strike. 

Harry paused until everyone was walking out of the Great Hall, letting his brother walk in front of him. Despite his anger with Harry over the attempted destruction of the diary, Henry had little choice when it came to sharing a dormitory with him.

As they slipped through a group of sixth years loitering just outside the doors, Harry dashed forward and ripped the book from the pocket of Henry’s robe and immediately turned to run in the opposite direction. Ron and Hermione filled the gap behind him as his brother roared incoherently and tried to follow him. They just managed to grab an arm each and keep him from leaving the Great Hall.

Harry ran for his life, determined to get the book as far away from his twin as possible. His feet took him unerringly towards the seventh floor and the room of requirement. He paused just long enough beside the tapestry to pace back and forth before opening the opaque glass door that appeared and entering a room with the largest collection of random things he had ever seen. It stretched for as far as he could see—jumbled piles of furniture, teetering piles of books, broken objects, and precious gold and jeweled things. Without a thought, he dashed into the mess, purposefully turning himself around several times to confuse the location. At last he stopped beside a bust of a man’s head with an elegant tiara placed on it and tucked the diary around behind.

Job finished, he retraced his path back to the door as well as he could and emerged into the hallway, smiling with satisfaction as the door disappeared.

By the time he returned to the Great Hall, Ron, Hermione, and Henry were being interrogated by Professor Snape. With the second Potter available for questioning, he began to ask why Harry would steal something from his own brother and what he had done with it.

Harry, of course, remained stubbornly silent and gladly took the lost points and detentions even as his heart twinged to see his brother’s hateful glare. It was almost curfew by the time they returned to Gryffindor tower, and his brother went to sleep in the extra bed after closing and locking shut the curtains around it.

-o-0-o-

Henry awoke feeling somewhat confused the next morning. For the first time since he had begun writing in the diary, he felt as though he was able to think clearly. The memory of Harry trying to burn the diary surfaced and he winced. His brother was smart—more so than he gave him credit for. And strong too. Much stronger than Henry. He had been completely unable to resist Tom Riddle.

Rolling over, he saw the silhouette of his brother outside the bed curtains, his wand raised as he tried to break the locking charm on the curtains. With a sigh, Henry sat up and removed the spell to allow his brother entrance. Harry stuck his head in with understandable trepidation, a hopeful frown on his lips.

“I’m sorry,” Henry whispered, gulping pack the tears he could feel gathering as the full weight of his actions the past month gripped him. Some of the emotion, he could feel, was from Harry. He could _feel_ how alone and hurt his brother had been without him.

Harry crawled onto the mattress and cradled his brother’s head against his chest. “Pain shared is pain halved,” he murmured into Henry’s hair. 

The older boy completely broke down as he felt the forgiveness and acceptance through their bond—it was growing stronger. He’d never felt the shared emotions so strongly before, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

A slight rustling was heard from the curtains, and Henry looked up in surprise, wiping the tears from his face. Hermione and Ron were watching the twins with worried eyes, and the bushy-haired girl hesitated momentarily before crawling onto the bed to hug the Slytherin boy as well.

“Well, come on then, Ron.” Harry giggled.

The red-haired boy rolled his eyes but joined the party on the bed. Henry found himself enveloped in their warm embrace and couldn't help the laugh that bubbled its way up through his tears.

“Better?” Hermione asked from her position hugging him from behind.

He nodded slightly, and the hug loosened, though Harry continued to hold him close to his chest.

“Thanks,” Henry mumbled. “And sorry.”

Ron patted him gently on the arm. “It’s all right, mate. I mean, that diary had to have been created with some pretty dark magic to have such an effect on you.”

“I suppose since you’re feeling better, I had better ask…” Harry hesitated, but Hen sent him a wave of reassurance through the bond. “Did you find out any more about the owner, Tom Riddle?”

Henry nodded and wiped the last of his tears away. “He was a student here fifty years ago.” Now that he could really think about it, he remembered the conversation about the Chamber of Secrets with a frown. “There were attacks going on at the time, because Slytherin’s heir had returned and set loose a monster from a secret chamber under the school. Hagrid got caught with one of his beasts and was expelled and sent to Azkaban, because a student died as a result of the attacks. Tom Riddle was the one who caught him.”

Harry tugged his lip thoughtfully.

“I think the Chamber of Secrets has something to do with why Lucius Malfoy wanted the diary here this year. I think we all know that Hagrid was innocent, but when I was talking to Tom about his time here, he said that Dumbledore always suspected him. I didn’t really think enough of it at the time to ask why, but I think Tom had more to do with the monster attacking the school than he let on,” Henry finished.

“If Tom Riddle was actually the one who opened the Chamber,” Hermione said, “then it would be in his best interest after someone was killed to lay the blame on another student. Hagrid’s fondness for dangerous creatures worked against him.”

Henry nodded sadly. He still couldn’t help liking the snarky Slytherin, even though the power of the diary wasn’t affecting him. “But the only way to open the Chamber is to be a parselmouth.”

Ron frowned. “But aren’t you and Harry…?”

The twins hadn’t bothered to keep such a secret from their friends the year before. Although Ron had been a bit twitchy about it at first, he eventually accepted it as a part of them, as well as Henry’s snake familiar disguised as a cat.

“Yeah, but I think we would know if our dad was a descendent of Slytherin,” Harry said. “The way Snape talks about him, there’s no way James Potter wouldn’t have lorded his ability to speak with snakes over all the Slytherins.”

Hermione sighed with frustration. “We need more information on Tom Riddle _and_ Slytherin’s line. Come on, let’s get down to breakfast and get our schedules. We can look him up in the library later today after classes.”

Harry and Ron groaned at the thought of hitting the library on their first day back, but got up to get ready for breakfast regardless.

-o-0-o-

“Here it is!” Hermione called them over. They had finished the morning Potions class and were now into a free period before lunch. They had been perusing various records in the library for over an hour. Ron and the twins gathered around the lone girl of the group and read the newspaper clipping.

_Boy Responsible for Death of Myrtle Salix Expelled  
By Wanda Wilmore_

_May 23, 1943—This past Tuesday, Hogwarts Head Boy Tom Riddle succeeded in apprehending the criminal responsible for the death of thirteen-year-old Myrtle Salix. Rubeus Hagrid had been hiding a young acromantula in the school, and it is believed that this monster was the cause of the student’s death._

_Riddle has been granted an award for special services to the school, and the young orphan will be residing at the school this summer instead of returning to Stockwell Orphanage in London._

Henry stopped reading there and groaned in frustration. “It’s no wonder we can’t find anything on Slytherin’s line—Tom could very well be descended from him, but as he’s an orphan there’s no way for us to find out!”

“Well, I have a theory,” Hermione said, shutting the book of articles with a snap. “You and Harry are both parselmouths, even though you’re most likely not a direct descendent. But you were telling me that when Voldemort attacked you, he bound all three of your souls together. So Henry has a piece of Voldemort’s soul, you two are soul bound, and most likely the dark lord has a piece of one of your souls.”

“What’s that got to do with Tom Riddle?” Ron asked.

“Well, people who are soul bound, like Harry and Henry, share special abilities. We know that Voldemort is a parselmouth, he was very well known for it during his rise to power…” She trailed off, waiting for one of them to get it.

“So you’re saying that I can speak parseltongue because I have part of Voldemort’s soul, and Harry can speak it because he has part of mine?” Henry asked.

“Exactly!” Hermione cried. “And, if Voldemort can speak it then he’s probably a legitimate heir of Salazar Slytherin. But he’s using an assumed name.” She tapped the cover of the book soundly. “Voldemort’s real name is Tom Marvolo Riddle, he _is_ the heir of Slytherin, and he _did_ open the Chamber and kill a student fifty years ago. The ghost of Myrtle Salix is still here in Hogwarts—she haunts a bathroom on the second floor.”

The three boys gaped at her in amazement for a few moments before they all turned and dashed out the door of the library.

“Wait! Where are you going?” she cried.

Harry turned and ran back to grab her arm, dragging her from the table of books they had been researching. “Well, come on! If we’re going to go talk to Myrtle, we’re going to need a girl to check that the bathroom is clear!”

“Well, it’s not like anyone actually _uses_ that bathroom,” she muttered to herself, but followed them up to the second floor anyway.

-o-0-o-


	14. Peskipiski

Myrtle’s bathroom on the second floor was covered in a scant inch of water and smelled exactly like an overflowing toilet—which it technically was. 

“So?” Ron asked. “Where is she?”

“Oh Ron, really…” Hermione began, but just then a high-pitched wailing came from the last stall on the right and the translucent form of a young girl wearing Ravenclaw robes shot through the door to float before them.

“You’re _boys_ ,” she spat in disgust. “What are you doing in here?”

“We, er, were just wondering…” Harry tried.

“Just wondering about poor, dreadful Myrtle who died in the girl’s bathroom? I suppose _you_ told them all about me?” she directed at Hermione.

“Well, yes, but…”

“Well now you’ve seen me! Go away!” And with that she began to sob brokenly and, wailing, returned to the stall whence she came.

“Myrtle, wait!” Henry cried.

Sniffing, she turned to look at him questioningly, if a little suspicious.

“We were wondering if you would tell us how you died?”

Her entire demeanor changed immediately. “Ooh… it was ever so frightening!”

“Crocodile tears…” muttered Hermione.

“What’s that you’re muttering?” Myrtle snapped at her.

“Nothing!”

“Good. As I was saying, it was terrible! I was in here crying in my stall—you know, the one I haunt—because Olive Hornby was teasing me about my glasses again. Well I heard the door to the bathroom open and someone said something in this weird language I couldn’t understand. But what I noticed was that the person speaking was a _boy_.” Here she stopped and glared at the three boys in the room. “So I poked my head out to tell him to get out, and then I died.”

Ron blinked. “What, that’s it? But how?”

“I don’t really know. All I remember is seeing a great pair of big yellow eyes, and then I was just floating away, dead.”

Harry frowned. “Well that gives us something to go on, anyway. What do you know about Tom Riddle, Myrtle?”

“He should have been in Ravenclaw.” Myrtle sniffed. “He was ever so smart—prefect, Head Boy, top marks every year. I couldn’t believe it when people told me he was an orphan. I never spoke to him really, but everyone thought he was very charming and intelligent.”

“Do you know if he was a parselmouth?” Henry asked.

She shook her head thoughtfully. “I never heard anything about that, and I was quite good at keeping up with the rumors back then. I’m sure the whole school would have known if he revealed it.”

“Right.” Hermione started shooing the boys towards the door. “Thank you for your help, Myrtle. We need to get to class now and then lunch. And of course Defense this afternoon and all.”

“Yeah, thanks!” Harry gave her a broad grin, and the ghost simpered and batted her eyelashes at him just before they escaped through the door.

The four made their way into the corridor and split up. Ron and Hermione had their History class now and the twins had a free period. The two boys headed down to the great hall early for lunch and played chess for an hour while they waited for their friends to return.

As the great hall filled with chatter, the four friends quietly discussed what they had learned. 

“It sounded almost like the monster’s eyes are what killed her,” Ron mused, biting into a large boiled potato on the end of his fork.

“What sort of creature kills with its eyes?” Harry asked.

“A basilisk,” Henry announced. Everyone looked at him curiously. “I did all that research last year on Serash and I read about all kinds of other snakes in the process. Basilisks are hatched from chicken eggs sitting under a toad, their gazes are deadly to anyone who sees them, a rooster’s crow can kill them, and spiders flee from them.”

“That certainly seems to fit,” Hermione murmured. “But why would something like that be in the school?”

“Well, the Chamber is supposed to be Slytherin’s creation. So if he were going to leave something down there to protect the school or to kill off all the muggleborns…” Ron said.

“Then it would be a snake,” Harry finished.

They sat down at the Gryffindor table and pondered the problem of the Chamber.

“Do you think we should tell someone?” Hermione finally asked.

“Tell someone what?” Henry said. “Harry has effectively stopped Malfoy’s plans by hiding the diary. He’s the only one who knows where it is. So long as the diary doesn’t resurface, only Harry and I are able to get into the Chamber, wherever it is. I think we’re all agreed that neither of us really wants to kill people with a giant snake that’s been living in the school for a thousand years.”

“Understatement,” Harry muttered.

“Well, that’s true…” Hermione hesitated.

“’Mione, really. Unless something happens, we have no reason to bring this up with the professors. We’ve got enough information for now. And Hen’s right, without the diary no one will be attacked.” Ron tried to calm her down.

“All right,” she sighed.

Harry absorbed himself in eating for the next few minutes and was surprised when a bouncy first year with blond hair suddenly squished himself between the two twins and smiled adoringly at them both. “Hello, Harry! Henry!”

“Er, hello?” Harry asked uncertainly.

Henry just scowled.

“I’m Colin! Colin Creevey!” Every word was filled with excitement. “I was so surprised to get my letter, my dad’s a milkman, you know. And then I learned about you two and now I know we’re in the same house and I just wanted to introduce myself and say hi, so hi!”

“Hi,” Harry said shortly. Hadn’t he already said hello once?

“I just think you two are so amazing, and I can’t wait to get to know you more and can I have a picture?”

There was suddenly a camera in the boy’s hands and first Harry and then Henry were blinded by the point-blank flash that filled their vision. “Thanks!” Colin cried. He stood and took one last snapshot of both of them together before running off to where the other first years were sitting to tell them all about the Potter twins.

“Looks like you’ve got a fan,” Ron sniggered. 

Henry sneered at him and turned back to his lunch, what little of it he could see with the spots obscuring his vision.

“I hope he leaves us alone now,” Harry muttered. 

They finished eating and made their way to the DADA room for their first class with Lockhart. Everyone lined up outside the door, and they made sure to stand near Draco so that they could talk to him without really talking to him. Hermione was clutching the full set of books and looking quite excited, while the three other boys held their two texts and smiled at one another. Draco was also holding a full set and sneered at the three boys who were holding the different ones. He was clearly wishing _he_ had thought of that.

“I meant to thank you again, Hen,” Ron told the elder Potter. “These books are loads more useful than the Lockhart ones.”

Henry smiled. “No problem.”

The door to the classroom opened and the smiling face of Gilderoy Lockhart greeted them. “Welcome! Come in, come in!” He waved everyone through the door and they trooped in to take their seats.

The classroom was nothing like it was the year before when Quirrell was teaching. The windows were uncovered, letting in lots of natural sunlight, and the walls were thickly coated with pictures of their defense professor—if one could call him that.

All the other students thumped the stack of books onto their desks, many of them wearing scowls. Lockhart beamed around the room and began to speak, “I’m glad to see that everyone has bought my full set…” His eyes landed on Harry, Henry, and Ron’s desks where they sat just behind Hermione in the second row. Draco had taken the last seat next to Henry. “What’s this? You have different books?” Lockhart asked.

“We have _accurate_ books.” Henry sneered at the man.

Lockhart frowned, marring his cheerful façade. “Oh, this won’t do. This won’t do at all. I’m afraid you’re going to have to buy the full set if you expect to keep up in this class. And I was going to give everyone a pop quiz on the books today to see how well you’ve all read!”

He actually sounded quite upset. It was almost touching, Henry thought. “I believe you will find, _Professor_ , that we are more than capable of keeping up with the second year curriculum _without_ your books. They are an unnecessary expense, and quite frankly I would simply burn them once I am finished with your class.”

Lockhart actually turned white with horror. “I will be discussing this with Dumbledore. I believe it will say somewhere in the rules that students are required to buy the recommended texts for each class.”

Henry just sneered at him again.

“Now, class!” Lockhart recovered from his shock and began passing out thick sheaves of parchment to each student. “Here’s the pop quiz I mentioned. You have thirty minutes, and I wish you luck!”

Henry stared at the first question. _‘What is Gilderoy Lockhart’s favorite color?’_ And on it went, ending with _‘When is Gilderoy Lockhart’s birthday, and what would his ideal gift be?’_

With a smirk, he began filling in his answers. To the first he wrote, _‘Lie-lac,’_ unwittingly giving the correct answer. He continued casting aspersions on the professor’s name, getting more and more creative until he reached the end and wrote, ‘Who cares, though I’m sure he would like to have a new “heroic deed” tied up with a ribbon and delivered to him so he can write another dreadful book about it.’

“And, time!” Lockhart crowed, picking up the collected papers from each row. Let’s see how you did, shall we?” He began to leaf through the papers. Henry watched carefully and smirked when he could tell the professor had reached his. It was very satisfying to see him pale drastically—and was that a nervous _tick_ he saw in the man’s neck? Two more papers seemed to give him equal pause, and Henry assumed that Ron and his brother had also bullshitted their way through the “quiz”.

“You three.” Lockhart pointed at them. “Detention with me every night this week. And longer if I get Dumbledore’s approval about those books. You clearly need to actually _read_ them—an error I will be sure to correct in our detentions together.”

“Now, everyone else seems to have done fairly well, though you might want to re-read some of the particulars that you weren’t sure about. Miss Granger has answered every question correctly.” He looked up from the papers and smiled winningly at her. Hermione blushed. “Ten points to Gryffindor! Now then…” Lockhart moved back behind his desk and placed his hand on the cover of a cage that was hanging next to it. “I have prepared a bit of a practical lesson for the rest of the period today.” He removed the cover with a flourish. “Freshly caught Cornish pixies!”

“But they’re not even _dangerous_!” Ron protested.

“Nonsense. Quite nasty little things if you get on their bad side. Very mischievous! So, the incantation for stunning them is _peskipiski pesternomi_. Got it?”

The class mumbled various forms of negation.

“Good! Have at them!” And with no warning whatsoever, the professor opened the cage and unleashed hell on the classroom. The pixies proceeded to destroy the room, pulling hair, destroying numerous sets of Lockhart books (something that Henry unobtrusively aided by blowing up several sets himself, including Draco’s, who winked at him in gratitude), and even lifting poor Neville toward the ceiling by his ears. 

Hermione began casting _immobulus_ jinxes at the pixies, catching three or more at a time as they harried the students. Most of the class had fled in terror, along with Lockhart. After ten minutes of chaos, they had replaced the last of the pixies back into their cage and gathered up their things to leave.

“The nerve of you three,” Hermione huffed. “I know you have good books, but you really should have purchased the Lockhart texts. Detention all week! I don’t know when you’re going to study…” she continued to complain in a scathing whisper as they trailed along behind her.

Draco had managed to lose his goons and was walking slightly behind them so he could listen in but not appear to be hanging out with them. Henry subtly passed him a note letting him know what had happened and what they had learned in the past day or so. The blond smiled gratefully at him and then hurried past them with a sneer as he headed to the Slytherin/Hufflepuff section of History. The twins split off from Ron and Hermione at the doors to the great hall, giving the red head a sympathetic look as he followed the still ranting girl. They joined the rest of the second year Slytherins for History, continuing the organized note taking that they had started the year before.

Binns droned on and Henry watched out of the corner of his eye as Draco opened and read the note below his desk. The blond’s grey eyes widened minutely before he destroyed the note with a quick _incendio_. A few people looked around to see what was burning, but only ash was left on the floor, which no one noticed.

The three boys stayed bent over their papers, pretending to take notes. Draco unobtrusively scrawled a few lines on the corner of his parchment and ripped it off a moment later, crumbling it with a sigh and throwing it to the side where it rolled off his desk and into Henry’s shoe.

The dark-haired boy lifted his foot and placed it back down on the other side of the paper, kicking it to the other side of his desk and knocking off a spare quill with his elbow at the same time. He bent down and quickly retrieved both items, uncrumpling Draco’s note and rustling through his own papers at the same time to cover the noise. When he was sure none of the other Slytherins were looking, he glanced down at the note to read: _‘If the DL is in MM, why send diary to H?’_

It was a valid question, and not one he had considered. The Dark Lord had survived well enough from their last encounter to find a new body to inhabit. He had been staying at Malfoy Manor all summer, and would have to know about Lucius giving the diary to Ginny Weasley and that it would end up back in Hogwarts again. But the why of it didn’t make sense. A number of new questions suddenly occurred to him. What _was_ the diary, exactly? Why did it exhibit such power over the one writing in it? How did opening the Chamber again benefit Voldemort? How could something the Dark Lord had once owned have such a strong _memory_ and _personality_? How were the Chamber, the diary, and the Dark Lord connected?

He didn’t have answers for any of the questions. As he burned the note under his desk, he waited until Draco gave him a sidelong glance and shook his head slightly. He didn’t know. But he intended to find out.

-o-0-o-

The first week passed slowly. All five of them (Draco would read alone when he could) researched every spare moment in the library, trying to find answers to their questions. They never found any. Whatever the diary was, it wasn’t written about in the normal section of the library. Hermione suggested using her influence with Lockhart to get a pass for the restricted section, but they would need to know the exact title of the book they were looking for and none of them had any idea where to look.

The detentions with Lockhart passed slowly. He set them to reading all seven of his series on the magical creatures he had fought, and when they finished those even made them read his autobiography, _Magical Me_. Dumbledore, much to the Professor’s irritation, had decreed that since the boys were reading the required text during their detentions, they did not have to buy them after all. Especially since the texts they had purchased were more than adequate. The end of the week saw many first, second, and third year students sending for the texts Henry recommended by owl order.

Colin Creevey seemed to have memorized the Potter twins’ schedule and kept popping up between classes to say hi to them, whether his class was at the other end of the building or not. He never seemed to get tired of hearing Harry say, “Hello, Colin,” back, and was somehow immune to the venom of Henry’s glares.

Friday night, Henry had a very strange dream. In it, he saw the diary hiding in a dark hole behind a stone bust wearing a tiara. As he watched it, the tiara snapped in half and a dark shadow emerged and shot into the diary below it. In the morning, all he could remember was that he had had a dream that felt wrong in some way.

When the weekend came at last, it brought a surprise. Harry was delighted to find that a notice had been placed on the common room bulletin boards saying that Quidditch tryouts would commence on Sunday. He and Draco spent most of Saturday practicing on the field while their friends watched on. They pretended to be having a vicious match over who could catch the snitch the most times in an hour, for the benefit of the Slytherins who came to watch.

Colin again got in their way, standing at the edge of the stands and clicking the shutter on his camera as fast as his fingers could move. The twins were shocked to find that by the end of the day, the boy had managed to print multiple copies of the pictures he had taken of them during the week and was working with another first year girl on making magical calendars of them. It didn’t seem to matter than the Harry in each picture tried his best to hide behind the frame and Henry simply stood there and scowled whenever anyone came close enough to look at him.

On Sunday, most of the members of each house appeared in the stands to watch the Quidditch trials. Harry and Draco were a shoo-in for both their teams. Gryffindor had been hurting for a good seeker since Charlie Weasley had graduated and Slytherin was always looking for new talent. Their line up seldom kept a single player from year to year.

Draco had the broom that Harry had not chosen, the Nimbostratus 10. He handled it fairly well, but Harry could see what his brother and Professor Snape had meant when they told him that very few seekers would be able to use it effectively. On his Cirrus, he could practically fly circles around the other boy despite the difference in speed.

By the end of the tryouts, they had both been picked for their teams and arranged the first practice with their team captains. Oliver Wood was, Harry was convinced, quite nutters when it came to Quidditch. They were to have dawn practice sessions three days a week and every day when it came close to a match time. But he loved flying enough to put up with it, he supposed.

After a long day of flying, the group returned to the castle for a well-deserved meal.

-o-0-o-

He had been intending to spend the day at the pitch to support his team as they picked new players, and instead found himself locked in a broom closet by two laughing upper years. Try as he might, no spell he could think of managed to break the enchantment on the door. Several hours into his vigil, Peeves suddenly started rattling the handle from outside and cackling with glee.

“What’s this, what’s this? Summat interesting in here that no one wants found?” 

The door flew open and he ran for it, not wanting to get caught by one of the poltergeist’s tricks. But the little man started chasing him through the hallways, throwing dung bombs at him and bouncing off the walls.

He managed to make it to the seventh floor and rounded a few corners ahead of Peeves only to reach a dead end with a large tapestry and two corridors leading away from it. He darted from one to the other, trying to figure out where to hide when he heard a soft pop behind him and turned to find a translucent glass door in the wall opposite the tapestry.

Hearing Peeves coming around the corner, he dashed inside and shut the door behind him. The poltergeist didn’t follow.

The room was piled with junk and small treasures. Things broken, things hidden, things lost, and things to find. He began to wander through the piles to waste some time before reemerging to see if Peeves was gone. Something drew him towards an area in the middle. There was the bust of a stern man wearing a very feminine and elegant tiara that was cracked neatly along the middle. 

Giggling, he picked up the pieces and pretended to put them on for a moment before placing them back, slightly crooked, onto the bust. As he did, the edge of something black and leathery peeked out from behind. Pulling it out, he saw that it was a blank journal with the initials TMR on the cover. It _felt_ magical, even if he didn’t know how or why. Deciding that someone must have hidden it and forgotten about it—it _did_ look very old, after all—he pocketed it and made his way back to the door and went down to dinner. The Quidditch trials were long over by now anyway.

-o-0-o-

Henry paused with a forkful of green beans halfway to his mouth. There was something… familiar nearby.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked, feeling his brother’s worry.

“I… don’t know. I thought I felt the diary for a moment, but now it’s gone.”

“Maybe it’s trying to make you sense it and come find it,” Harry suggested.

“Maybe,” Henry said. “I’ll let you know if it happens again.”

“All right.”

But he didn’t feel it again at all. But not because the diary’s presence had disappeared. It was as though it was _hiding_ from him.

-o-0-o-


	15. The Chamber Opens

_“…rip…tear…kill…”_

Harry paused in alarm as he heard the murmuring voice nearby. He was just climbing tiredly back up to Gryffindor tower after a particularly wet and muddy Quidditch practice. Wood was driving them all to illness with his endless practices, and it didn’t help that he and Henry’s bond was stretched to the limit while he was down on the pitch and his brother in either the dungeons or the tower.

_“…sooo hungry…for so long…”_

It was coming from somewhere up the corridor he had just turned off of. Jogging lightly, Harry ran back to the corner and peered around, only to find it empty.

_“…kill…time to kill…”_

It was moving away from him now. Moving upwards, though he couldn’t imagine how. Biting his lip worriedly, Harry dashed the rest of the way up to the tower, ignoring Filch’s screeches about his muddy prints and the brooding form of Nearly Headless Nick.

“For the cup!” he gasped to the Fat Lady and crawled through the portrait hole she revealed. Hermione, Ron, and Henry looked up as he entered, smiles on their faces until they noticed his flushed and worried appearance.

Henry came over and enveloped him in a hug. The ache from the bond eased at once and Harry took a few moments to bask in the warmth and get his breath back. “I just heard the strangest thing—a voice somewhere talking about killing and being hungry. But when I looked I couldn’t find anyone.”

Ron frowned. “That does sound weird. Has anyone else heard it?” He looked at Hermione and Henry, but they both shook their heads.

“I would say that I’m just exhausted from Quidditch training, but I know what I heard.” Harry sighed and plopped onto one end of a couch, his brother sitting cross-legged beside him.

“Well, there’s no sense in worrying about it for now. We’ll all just have to keep an ear out for it to happen again. Though whatever they were saying is a bit disturbing…” Hermione reasoned.

Harry nodded, feeling his eyelids drooping shut. “Listen, I’m beat. I’m going to get some actual sleep before Wood comes to wake me up again.”

“I’ll come with you, I’m still feeling a little sore.” Henry rubbed the area over his heart so that they would know what he meant and the twins went upstairs to sleep.

Curled around one another in their bed, Harry murmured, “Only another week until Halloween.”

Henry nodded against his hair. “I was thinking we could skip the feast and hold a vigil for mum and dad outside for a couple hours.”

“I’d like that,” Harry mumbled sleepily. He snuggled further into Henry’s chest and began to breathe deeply, already asleep.

-o-0-o-

Halloween dawned frosty and clear that Saturday. The twins disappeared before the others woke and spent a quiet morning in the kitchens (Fred and George having long ago given up that secret) having tea and scones and laughing over the eagerness of the elves. While everyone else was having their own breakfast, they snuck out of the school and took a long walk together around the lake.

By the time Ron was awake enough to notice they were missing, Hermione had worried enough to remind both herself and him that it was Halloween. They both agreed to leave their friends alone until they reemerged.

After a few hours of skipping stones across the surface of the lake and watching the giant squid trying to catch them, the boys returned inside and headed this time to the room of requirement. The room they stepped into was cozy and warm after their time outside and supplied them both with a cup of hot chocolate and a slice of warm pumpkin pie piled high with whipped cream.

When they finished their snack, the room changed again, making their mugs and plates disappear and filling a small cupboard on one side of the room with a jumble of muggle board games. They played Frustration, Chutes and Ladders, checkers, and Risk until it was time for lunch.

Feeling that it was probably time to spend a little of the day with their friends, they ate in the great hall with everyone else and informed Ron and Hermione that they would not be at the feast that evening before sitting with the Slytherins. Draco sat down across from them and gave them both a solemn nod before pretending to ignore them.

At the end of lunch they switched back to the Gryffindor table and played chess with Ron while Hermione alternated between reading and watching their matches. 

Just as the other students began to gather for the feast, the twins said goodbye to their friends and made to slip out the front doors of the castle, only to find Professor Snape blocking their way.

“Where might you be going?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

“We’re going to go outside and light candles for our parents,” Henry told him softly.

The professor’s gaze softened slightly. “You should not go alone. I will accompany you.”

Harry started to protest, but Henry cut him off. “It’s all right, Har. I think the professor needs to pay his respects to Lily Potter just as much as we do.”

Snape stiffened slightly but did not disagree.

As they had done the year before, the twins lit two black candles and then sat cross-legged on the ground beside them. After a reluctant sigh, their professor joined them.

“Will you tell us more about our parents, Professor?” Harry asked the dour man.

Snape continued to stare into the flames of the candles for several long moments. They thought that he would not speak, and then his lips parted and he whispered the story to them in the cold air. “Lily lived down the street from me. My parents were not terribly kind people, and I would spend most of my days wandering the streets alone. When I first saw her, she was doing magic for her little sister, Petunia. My mother was a pureblood witch and my father was a muggle, so I knew all about magic. I found Lily…enchanting.”

“You loved her,” Henry whispered, the puzzle pieces finally starting to fit together.

Snape nodded imperceptibly. “From then on, instead of wandering randomly I would search for her. I watched her do incredible things with magic—most children do not gain the same control over it at such a young age. When I realized she was muggleborn, I was very surprised. And then one day, I slipped in my hiding place and they heard me. I had to reveal myself and I told Lily all about magic and Hogwarts. I knew her sister was just a muggle, so I’m afraid I pushed the other girl away and caused Lily to do the same.” He looked up from the candle, his dark eyes sad as he looked at the twins. “It is probably at least partially my fault that Petunia treated you so horribly.”

Harry shook his head. “Aunt Petunia was bitter.” The other two looked at him with surprise. “She wished that she could do magic, too. I remember when Hen and I first started showing signs of it, she got this really pinched and painful look on her face. She was jealous of mum, and of us, and of you, professor.”

Snape looked away and closed his eyes. “Jealousy,” he whispered. “That emotion has done so much harm to your family.”

“You were jealous of Lily and James getting together?” Henry asked shrewdly.

“It was more than that. From the moment we laid eyes on each other, James and I hated one another. And Sirius Black as well—he was James’ best friend along with Peter Pettigrew and Remus Lupin. But those two were the worst. There was barely a day that passed that they didn’t play a prank or a cruel joke on me.” Snape’s voice was bitter but not filled with hate. “Finally one day I snapped. Lily tried to help me, and I called her a mudblood. From then on she would barely even speak to me. It was the worst day of my life.”

The twins watched the wax dripping from the candles for several minutes as their professor collected himself.

“I had already fallen in with what your mother called a 'bad crowd'. After that I immersed myself in learning the dark arts and sequestered myself in Slytherin house.” A bitter smile twisted his lips. “Oddly enough, it was then that I found someone else to love, though it lasted only a few short years.”

Harry looked up curiously. “What happened?” Henry nudged him a second too late. “Er…I mean, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Snape actually chuckled. “He went mad.”

They blinked, trying to process several things at once. Snape had switched from loving their mother to loving a man. And then said man went mad. And he thought it was funny.

The professor noticed their blank looks and smiled sardonically. “If you knew the circumstances, you would find it funny as well. But I do not think you are ready to know just yet. Perhaps at the end of the year…”

Henry nodded and glanced back up at the castle. “Looks like the feast is almost over.”

Snape stood fluidly. “We should return inside, then. If you’re lucky you might be able to grab something to eat before it all disappears.”

Grinning, each boy picked up a candle and gently blew it out. They placed the stubs in their pockets and followed the professor back into the school. Students were beginning to break up into groups to walk back to their dormitories. Harry and Henry grabbed a few pumpkin pasties apiece and followed their professor as he headed for the dungeons. They were among the first to leave the great hall and immediately noticed the water covering the stones of the second floor corridor.

“Myrtle must have flooded the bathroom again,” Harry said.

Snape sneered at the flagstones as though his expression could make the water evaporate.

“What’s that?” Henry asked, his head cocked to the side.

_“…I smell blood…I SMELL BLOOD!”_

“That’s the voice I heard earlier this week!” Harry cried. 

The two boys rushed into the corridor with the professor following curiously behind. There, between two of the torches opposite the girl’s bathroom, was a message written in what looked suspiciously like blood:

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED.  
ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.

And hanging above it was the still form of Mrs. Norris frozen in her most intimidating stance, fur puffed up, eyes wide, and teeth bared.

“You two stay here. I’m going to go fetch the Headmaster,” Snape said tersely.

Henry noted that the potions master didn’t seem terribly surprised by the message.

Shortly after Snape disappeared, the corridor began to fill with those who were now leaving the great hall. Everyone stopped dead upon seeing the Potters standing next to the incriminating message and the apparently dead form of Mrs. Norris.

“Enemies of the heir beware! You’ll be next, mudbloods!” Draco emerged from the crowd to cast slander as he was expected, but shot Henry a questioning glance.

Before Henry could tell the waiting crowd what had happened, Filch pushed his way to the front and shook an accusing finger at them. “You killed my cat!”

“We did not! We just found her there!” Harry protested.

“But you weren’t at the feast, were you?” a Hufflepuff boy accused. “Everyone was talking about how you were missing.”

Henry’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “We were outside paying our respects to our parents. Or did you all forget that they died today?”

The boy looked slightly chagrined, and Snape reappeared with Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall in tow at the same moment.

“They’re telling the truth. I went with them to keep an eye on them,” Snape told the Headmaster.

Filch looked heartbroken. “Well if they didn’t kill my cat, who did?”

Dumbledore approached the wall and looked closely at the hanging form of Mrs. Norris. “She is not dead, Argus. She has merely been petrified.”

“What does that mean?” Filch cried. Several of the students echoed his sentiment.

“With a properly prepared potion, she will be restored once more. Do not worry overly much, my friend.” Dumbledore looked around at the students who were peering over each others’ shoulders trying to see the message and the cat. “Everyone, please return to your dormitories for the night. We have everything well in hand.”

Grumbling slightly, those present turned to leave. Harry and Henry joined the tail end of the crowd and found Professor Snape beside them a few moments later.

“My office. Now,” he said sternly.

They followed him into the narrow space that was decorated by slimy things in jars. Put there, Henry was sure, to unnerve the students forced into their presence. The professor’s black eyes studied them as he sat behind his desk, motioning them to take the chairs opposite the door.

“What did you hear?” he asked them curiously.

Harry’s brow furrowed before he realized what their potions teacher meant. “I heard it last weekend as I was coming back from quidditch practice. A voice talking about killing and eating. Tonight all I heard it say was something like ‘I smell blood’.”

“It was the first time I heard it,” Henry admitted. “But it was definitely talking about killing someone and then started screaming about smelling blood. But when we rushed around the corner, there was nothing there.”

“Yes,” Snape murmured. He sat up and leaned his elbows on his desk, threading his fingers together as he looked at them intently. “What has me concerned is that I did not hear anything at all.”

Both boys shared a confused look. Henry spoke, “But it was really loud. Literally screaming about blood and…” he trailed off as something occurred to him.

Black eyes seized on the tidbit of information. “What?”

Gulping, Henry decided it was all or nothing. “You didn’t hear it because it was parseltongue. The basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets has been let out and now it’s hunting in the school. But I don’t see why Mrs. Norris wasn’t killed…”

Snape’s eyes narrowed. “The water on the floor. She didn’t see its eyes, she just saw the reflection.”

“That would explain it,” Henry said.

“You’re parselmouths? How did you figure out it’s a basilisk? And how do you know about the Chamber? Most of the students in the school have never heard of it,” Snape asked.

“Mostly deduction, sir. But Lucius Malfoy planted a diary that once belonged to Tom Riddle on Ginny Weasley this year. I stole it and…”

“The diary!” Harry cried, interrupting. “If the Chamber has been opened, then someone must have found it and is writing in it. We have to go and check!” He stood and made to dash out the door, but Henry stopped him.

“Wait, Har! We need to finish explaining to Professor Snape about what’s going on! The whole school is in danger now!”

“Indeed.” Snape stood. “But I believe Harry is correct. We should check to see if the diary is still there.”

“You know more than you’re letting on,” Henry accused.

The potions master stopped cold and looked at him with calculating eyes. “Perhaps…” he said hesitantly.

Both boys stared at him, trying to figure out the puzzle that was their potions professor. Harry remembered the conversation that he had overheard in the Hog’s Head during the summer break.

 _“Lucius has been in contact with Him. He wants them protected as well,”_ Snape had said.

“You’re… you work for _him_!” Harry cried.

Both boys were suddenly made immobile by a full body bind jinx, and the door behind them locked shut with a snap, a silencing ward clicking into place around the room.

Snape brandished his black wand at them, his dark eyes glittering brightly. “What have you figured out? Tell me everything you know about the diary and Tom Riddle.” The curse was removed from the neck up, allowing them to speak.

Despite their circumstances, Henry still felt he would trust Snape with his life. “I wrote in the diary at first. It tried to control me, control my emotions. Harry took it away and hid it. We’ve been trying to figure out what it is and how it works since then. The library doesn’t seem to have any information that isn’t in the restricted section. And we know that Tom Marvolo Riddle is really Lord Voldemort.”

The black wand lowered and Snape turned to pace behind his desk, regarding them both with an intelligent gleam in his eyes. “You’re close. What do you remember from your reading about soul bonds?”

Henry frowned. “How did you…Madam Pince?”

Snape nodded, waving his hand for the boy to continue.

He frowned, trying to remember. Nothing about the passage from the book seemed relevant, and he had had to ask Madam Pince a few questions about it…yes! “Madam Pince told me there is a way, using dark magic, to split your soul and place it in an object to protect it. That way, if you die or are killed, you will continue living on because a piece of your soul remains protected on earth. She said they’re called Horcruxes.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “Is that what the diary is? A piece of Voldemort’s _soul_? That’s why he didn’t die when he tried to kill us?”

 _And that’s what I am,_ Henry thought, his stomach sinking. _I have a piece of Voldemort’s soul in me._

“Yes!” Snape cried triumphantly. “That is his greatest secret, and something Dumbledore does not want you finding out for many years yet.”

“But why are you telling us this? Why do you want us to know?” Harry cried. “You’re a Death Eater!”

“Because the Dark Lord made a mistake. He made too many Horcruxes, and turned into a monster. I am telling you simply because Dumbledore ordered me not to,” Snape told them with satisfaction. “He does not want you to know that he is manipulating you towards a destiny where you will have no choice but to destroy the Dark Lord. He does not want you to know that Tom Riddle was once a good leader who had suffered too much at the hands of muggles. He does not want you to know about a prophecy supposedly foretold by that crackpot old woman who hides in her tower. He does not want you to know that neither you nor the Dark Lord can live so long as the other survives. Dumbledore thinks he knows what he is doing, he thinks that he is manipulating you both for his ‘greater good’, but he does not know Tom Riddle the way that I do. He does not know that the true Dark Lord can be restored.”

Snape breathed harshly through his teeth as he finished his speech and took in the shell-shocked expressions on the boys’ faces. He had told them too much, too quickly. They weren’t ready yet. 

“Too soon, too soon,” he muttered. Looking first Harry and then Henry in the eyes, he asked, “Where did you hide the diary?”

“I-in the room of requirement,” Harry stuttered. Henry looked at him in surprise.

“Thank you,” Snape said, recapturing their attention. “ _Obliviate_.”

Two blank expressions gazed up at him, the first lights of confusion beginning to show already in their eyes. “You came in here and told me about the basilisk and I promised to warn the Headmaster that the school is in danger. You did not tell me about the diary. The next time you face the Dark Lord you will remember our conversation, breaking my spell.” The clause at the end made the memory spell risky—such a clause would make it easier for the two boys to break it as they tried to identify their disoriented feelings. But with any luck, it would hold long enough for his master to return. “Now thank me and return to your common room.”

“Thank you, professor,” Harry told him with a warm smile. Henry echoed him and they left the room to go to the Slytherin common room.

Severus waited for them to leave and then ran from his office all the way to the seventh floor and the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy.

 _I need somewhere to hide, I need somewhere to hide, I need somewhere to hide,_ he chanted in his mind. A door appeared in the wall and he entered and cast a quick _accio_ spell to fetch the diary. Nothing. Frowning, Snape tried again, “ _Accio_ Voldemort’s Horcrux.” This time the two shattered pieces of a very familiar tiara zoomed into his hands. Gasping, Snape gently ran his fingers over the last Horcrux his master had created. Rowena Ravenclaw’s diadem was broken now, the piece of soul that once resided in it gone. There was no clear way of knowing how such a thing had happened. And it appeared that the diary that the Potter twins had hidden in this room was gone as well. But who had it now?

-o-0-o-


	16. The Heirs of Slytherin

The common room was full to bursting when they got to the dungeons. The crowd of students turned almost as one and silenced as the twins entered, a speculative gleam in many eyes.

Draco sauntered close to the front of the crowd and spoke, “So is it true? You two are the Heirs of Slytherin?”

“What?” Harry gasped, glancing nervously at the students listening intently.

Henry looked his blond friend in the eyes and saw an apology and also reassurance in his gaze.

“You’re parselmouths, after all.” Draco sniffed.

There were several gasps from the younger students in the room.

Henry narrowed his eyes dangerously at everyone. Except for a few sixth and seventh years, they all shrunk back respectfully. With his mind working a mile a minute, he came to the conclusion that Draco was doing this to protect them. He and Harry were already suspect because of their proximity to the Heir’s message. Slytherin house wouldn’t take too well to a couple of halfbloods claiming lineage to their founder without proof.

“Draco, how could you?” Harry whispered fiercely.

“We are parselmouths,” Henry spoke above the quiet whispers that had filled the room. The portrait of Salazar Slytherin above the main fireplace raised his eyebrows in surprise. He continued, “But we’re not Heirs. We can speak parseltongue because of the Dark Lord. When he attacked us as children, he bound our souls together allowing us to share special abilities. Voldemort is the true Heir.”

Although a few people flinched at the name, most people were too shocked by this information to react properly.

“I trust this information will remain within Slytherin?” Henry asked coldly.

One of the seventh year prefects stepped forward. “I think that’s a good idea. Slytherins protect their own. This information would make life hard for all of us. I assume you two do not know who is responsible for the attack?”

Harry shook his head. “Not directly, no. We’ve warned Professor Snape of the danger and he will notify the Headmaster. Right now we’re the only two who can hear the thing that petrified Mrs. Norris.”

“What is it?” Pansy Parkinson asked fearfully.

“A basilisk,” Henry told them.

More gasps and exclamations followed before the prefect called for silence again. “I can only hope that the Headmaster will make this information known to the rest of the school, but we should spread the word to the other houses regardless. If you have friends outside of Slytherin, let them know and tell them to share the message. How can we combat it?” he asked everyone at large.

“Why didn’t Mrs. Norris die?” called a third year from the back of the room.

“She only saw its reflection,” Harry informed them, still glaring daggers at Draco. “Perhaps we should tell people to carry a mirror with them and look around corners with it before walking blindly into its gaze.”

“That’s sound reasoning. I’ll see about contacting my family and having a package of hand mirrors delivered for any student who needs one,” the prefect said.

“We should also have older students escort the younger ones to classes,” a sixth year added. “I’m sure the professors won’t mind the older years being a little late to their own classes once they know what’s going on.”

“Agreed,” several prefects said at once.

“I’ll create a roster and post it for sign-ups,” the seventh year decided. “Anything else?”

 _“I wish to speak to my Heirs,”_ said an older male voice.

Many people looked up in confusion and then noticed that it was their founder who had spoken from his portrait. During all the years he had hung there, no student had ever heard him speak before—and now he did so only in parseltongue.

Harry frowned at the dark haired man with his dark eyes—he could almost be distantly related to Professor Snape. _“We are not your Heirs.”_

If the other students needed any proof of Draco and the twins’ claims, hearing the hissing coming from the younger twin’s mouth was enough. Many people sensed that the impromptu meeting was over and disappeared into their dormitories. Others hung about unobtrusively to listen in on the hissed conversation taking place.

_“You Speak, therefore you are worthy Heirs.”_

Henry snorted. _“Compared to your_ last _Heir, you mean.”_

Salazar gave a strange hissing laugh. _“Indeed! Tom was always too ambitious for his own good. I’m afraid he embodied all of the worst traits of my house.”_

 _“And what of your ideals? He’s been trying to take over wizarding Britain and kill off all the muggles and muggleborns,”_ Harry told him.

Salazar shook his head. _“During my time, we were in the middle of the witch hunts. Children who came to our school to learn returned home to muggle parents who beat them and punished them for their abnormal abilities. Muggles were so very afraid. There were too many times when none of the muggleborn students ever returned after their first year. Back then, my desire to remove those children from their homes and separate from the muggle world was realistic. But the other founders did not want to break up any families, despite the deaths that occurred every year. In the end, I left. I couldn’t bear to invest myself in another child only to see them die because of the things I showed them.”_

The twins frowned in sympathy for the founder’s plight. _“And what about Tom?”_ Henry asked. _“Why does he want to get rid of the muggles, if that wasn’t your original intent?”_

_“I am not sure what happened, but he originally disagreed with my opinion of muggles. He wanted families to be evaluated and magical children removed and placed with magical families if it was necessary.”_

_“He certainly_ has _changed,”_ Harry muttered darkly.

Slytherin raised his eyebrows in amusement. _“I know he is trying to take over everything now, but he used to just want to better the wizarding world and bring it out of the dark ages where it has remained stagnant.”_

The words tickled at something in the back of Harry’s mind. But as much as he tried to remember, it stayed on the tip of his tongue where he couldn’t find it.

 _“Go to sleep,”_ Slytherin told them. _“I will have other opportunities to talk with you.”_

The twins readily agreed and went back up to their dormitory. Harry glared at Draco and refused to speak to him, but Henry gave him a solemn nod when the other boys were climbing into their own four posters and couldn’t see.

They fell asleep quickly, unaccountably exhausted after their lazy day. Harry dreamt that night that Draco and Snape were presenting him trussed and silenced to the Dark Lord, and was very uneasy around the pair for the week that followed.

-o-0-o-

Gryffindor won the first quidditch match by only thirty points, and as Harry landed Lockhart appeared out of nowhere and attempted to cast a charm to make the boy’s robes flash red and gold and say “Slytherin stinks!” (as he loudly proclaimed afterwards) every time someone wearing green walked by. Unfortunately, he only managed to somehow graft the fabric directly to Harry’s skin. 

The twins spent an irritated night in the hospital wing, plotting ways to get rid of the terrible professor.

“We could erase all of his memories and set him loose in the Forbidden Forest,” Henry suggested.

“Too easy to trace,” Harry decided. “We need something simple that will drive him from the castle for good.”

“Set the basilisk on him?” Henry joked.

“Well…”

They were interrupted by the doors of the hospital wing opening to admit Professors Snape, Dumbledore, and McGonagall with a small figure on a stretcher floating behind them. Madam Pomfrey appeared out of her office moments later to take the new patient. The twins pretended to sleep and watched through slitted eyes as the stiff body was placed onto the bed next to them. The shocked face of Ginny Weasley stared into the round surface of a mirror held outstretched in her hand.

“What would have happened if the Slytherins hadn’t distributed mirrors to the rest of the school, Albus?” McGonagall was demanding of the Headmaster.

Said wizard was looking extremely old as he looked on the girl who was now going to miss most of her first year. “It does not bear thinking about. Something terrible, assuredly, unless she was extremely lucky. I still do not agree with closing the school, however. We know this time what the threat is, Minerva, and as such we can combat it. We do not need to close, not yet.”

Snape made a noise in the back of his throat, but said nothing.

McGonagall sighed, as though they had had this argument many times already, but only said, “I will contact her parents in the morning and inform her brothers in Gryffindor tonight.” She turned to leave.

“Thank you, Minerva,” Dumbledore said gravely.

“I will continue my rounds,” Snape said, and left immediately.

The Headmaster turned and looked directly at the supposedly sleeping twins. “If you ever need to talk…my office is always open to those who need me. I’m rather fond of lemon drops.” Then he, too, turned and left the hospital wing.

Henry sighed an opened his eyes after everyone had left. “He knows that we know something about what’s going on.”

“Do you think Snape told him about us and the basilisk?” Harry asked.

“Probably. He would have to reveal where he got the information, after all. I just wish I knew what else he told him.”

They left the hospital wing the next morning and returned to the Gryffindor common room, where a somber group of Weasley boys was gathered and most other people were grouped around the bulletin board near the portrait hole.

Harry went to comfort Ron, while Henry approached the group to see what the fuss was about.

“A dueling club?” Henry asked with disgust, eyeing the announcement pinned to the board.

“I think it sounds exciting,” Hermione announced, coming up behind him. “And we need to know how to defend ourselves, especially with students already turning up petrified. I feel so bad for Ginny—the mandrakes won’t be ready for months. She’s going to miss most of the first year curriculum!”

Henry smiled and shook his head at his clever friend. “Somehow, I think she’ll manage all right, Hermione.”

“Maybe…but anyway, the club’s tomorrow afternoon in the great hall. It seems like everyone in the school is planning to attend, so we might as well join in.”

So the next day found the twins standing with Ron and Hermione amongst a mixed group of students around a long dueling platform in the center of the great hall.

“Welcome to the first dueling meeting!” Gilderoy Lockhart twinkled brilliantly at them from his position high on the table.

Henry grunted in disgust. “No one told me _he’d_ be in charge. This is a waste of time, let’s go.”

Harry nodded in agreement, but the blond man’s next words stayed them both.

“Assisting me will be Professor Snape. To start, we are going to hold a brief mock duel to give you an idea of the method involved.”

The twins exchanged gleeful grins and turned as one to watch the match, even crowding closer to the platform to get a better view of Snape kicking Lockhart’s arse.

The duel was painfully short, but sweet. Before the defense professor could fire a single spell, Snape whipped up his wand and shot an overpowered _expelliarmus_ at him that sent him ass over ears to the end of the table.

“Thank you, Professor Snape,” Lockhart said through gritted teeth. 

Harry strongly suspected that with enough stress, they would crack and crumble directly out of the man’s mouth. He then started to think of ways to make this happen more quickly.

“Let’s break you all up into pairs, shall we?” the gratingly chipper man suggested.

People immediately began to shuffle around the room to find partners. Before the twins could decide, Snape swept over and gripped Henry’s shoulder, his other hand already tight beside Draco’s neck. “Perhaps a _student_ demonstration is in order first,” he suggested.

“Excellent, excellent. Come on up, then!” Lockhart smiled as though it were all his idea.

Draco and Henry rolled their eyes at one another, but stepped dutifully to either end of the platform. Both of them bowed and raised their wands as the professors had done. Lockhart counted down and they both cast their first spells simultaneously. Draco fired off a borderline dark cutting hex, and Henry shot a rather nasty tickling charm coupled with a leg locker jinx. Both of them just barely missed. Before they could try the next round, Snape interrupted and came up beside Draco to whisper something in his ear. The blond boy smiled gleefully, but gripped his wand in a tight fist which betrayed his worry.

“ _Serpensortia_!” A twelve foot cobra slithered out of Draco’s wand and advanced down the table towards Henry, sending nearby students screaming and scattering out of the way.

Henry raised his eyebrows incredulously at the two other Slytherins. Draco bit his lip, but he detected a definite suspicious gleam in the potions professor’s eyes. So, Snape wanted the whole school to know they were parselmouths? But why?

Calmly, he walked down to the middle of the table while everyone watched on fearfully. Kneeling, he extended his hand to the snake and said, loudly enough for everyone to hear, _“Come, scaled one. I mean you no harm.”_ The snake looked up at him in surprise before slithering over his hand and around his arm to rest on his shoulders.

The room was deathly silent for a moment, and then all hell broke loose.

“He is Slytherin’s Heir!” a Hufflepuff by the name of Justin Finch-Fletchly crowed triumphantly to his friends.

Henry leveled a glare at the boy, who gulped nervously, and then turned to look questioningly at Professor Snape. This was _his_ idea, after all.

Before Snape could speak, though, Harry had jumped up onto the platform. “He is not! Both of us can speak parseltongue because of Voldemort!”

Henry was more than a little tempted to hit himself in the forehead using an entire stack of Lockhart’s books. _Gryffindors_.

If anything, this news just made more people in the room more certain of their now shared guilt. 

Snape stepped forward to take control. “They are correct, the Dark Lord was the last heir of Slytherin. Despite their ability to speak the language, these two are _undoubtedly Potters_ ,” he said, spitting the last two words with extra venom.

The students looked horrified. “You mean, someone in this school i-is You-Know-Who’s _kid_!?” someone asked.

The potions master sneered at their stupidity, “I assure you that the Dark Lord does not have any children.”

“Then it’s still possible they’re the new Heirs,” Justin said with determination.

Henry and Snape both reached up a hand to pinch the bridge of their noses at the same time.

Harry took the stage again. “No, we gained the ability to speak to snakes when we were attacked as children. And I assure you that we are not trying to attack the school. It was us that warned everyone about the basilisk in the first place!”

Most of the room continued to look somewhat suspicious of them.

“Leave it, Harry,” Henry said. “They aren’t going to listen to words. They want proof, and we have none.”

Snape vanished the snake on Henry’s shoulders. “You cannot have snakes as pets, Potter. It would probably eat your cat, anyway.”

“Yes, sir.” Henry smirked.

“Er…” Lockhart spoke up again finally. “Let’s see what the rest of you can do, then. Go on with your pairs and cast a few spells back and forth. _Safe_ spells,” he tried to stress too late.

What followed was pandemonium. Despite the size of the room, many pairs were practically on top of one another. Spells that were dodged by a member of one group hit members of another. Slytherins took the opportunity to throw snide spells at Gryffindors. After five minutes of Lockhart trying to get everyone to stop, Snape finally threw sparks from his wand over the crowd with a great ‘BANG’.

Henry took advantage of the brawling crowd to drag his brother with him out of the room. He would be willing to bet one hundred galleons that there would never be another meeting of the dueling club while Lockhart was the defense professor.

They passed Hagrid carrying a dead rooster by the neck and exchanged glances. Basilisks were vulnerable to the rooster’s crow. Whoever had the diary wasn’t taking any chances of the giant snake being stopped. 

They trooped through the corridors and down into the dungeons, not stopping until they reached the Slytherin boys’ dormitory.

“What now?” Harry asked miserably. “Why did you speak to the snake like that, anyway?”

“Snape wanted me to, for some reason,” Henry shrugged. “Now, I suppose we’ll have to recover the diary from whoever has it in order to clear our names. Let’s get together with Hermione and Ron tomorrow and figure out how to find the thief.”

-o-0-o-

“We should infiltrate the other common rooms,” Hermione said promptly when they presented the problem to her.

“Infiltrate?” Ron asked, laughing. “You make it sound like a war!”

She blushed, but forged ahead, “Well, it’s probably a student that found it, right? And whoever has it is probably writing in it regularly. We can keep an eye on people in Gryffindor and Slytherin to see if they use it in the common rooms. I have friends in Ravenclaw I can visit, and their entrance is locked by riddles instead of a password, so getting in is easy. We just need someone who can get into and spy on the Hufflepuffs. Who do we know that’s been exchanged with them?”

“Fred and George,” Ron said immediately. “They traded with a fifth year named Cedric Diggory and fourth year Mark Summers.”

“And terrified the wits out of the poor Hufflepuffs in the process,” Henry muttered. The badger house had been jumping at shadows for weeks afterward. “If we send them in there, I doubt anyone would stick around long enough for them to see the diary.”

“But they’re the only ones we can really trust with knowledge of the diary,” Hermione pointed out.

“Fred and George it is,” Harry decided. “We can talk to them later. So each of us will spend as much time as we can in each common room and keep an eye on people, agreed?”

The others all nodded.

“Might as well get started,” Henry said, glancing casually around the Gryffindor common room. Most people were playing games, chatting, or studying. Colin Creevey was sitting in one corner, mounting photographs in a book. He had been hit especially hard by the loss of Ginny Weasley and had lost much of his cheerful countenance. Although not being blinded every thirty seconds for new pictures was a plus, it was still sobering to see him so changed by the events.

The portrait hole opened and the Headmaster and Professor McGonagall came in.

“Messirs Potter,” the head of house said sternly. “Come with me.”

“Everyone is confined to their dormitory with an enforced curfew until further notice,” Dumbledore announced. “I know prefects have already been escorting the youngest students, but that patrol is now to be extended to include everyone up to fifth year. You will be excused for any tardiness—within reason.”

Harry and Henry stood to follow the professors with confusion, when Parvati Patil called out, “Has there been another attack, Professor?”

Dumbledore nodded gravely. “Justin Finch-Fletchly was found petrified on the sixth floor along with Nearly Headless Nick. Both of them have been taken to the hospital wing.”

Several students looked fearfully at the twins, remembering that at the dueling club, Justin had been the one most certain of their guilt.

“Come along,” McGonagall said.

They followed her from the common room with trepidation. Surely the Headmaster did not actually think they were responsible for the attacks?

-o-0-o-


	17. Reconnaissance

McGonagall peeled off, probably to issue curfews to the other houses, and Professor Dumbledore led them through the seventh floor corridors to a statue of a rather ugly gargoyle on the side opposite the Gryffindor tower entrance.

“Lemon drops,” he said cheerfully, turning to wink at the twins as though they had shared some kind of secret.

The gargoyle jumped aside at once and they followed the Headmaster onto the spiral staircase and let it carry them to the door at the top. Inside, they were confronted by a large round office with numerous contraptions littering every available surface. A bird stand to the side of the desk held a bird with brightly orange and red plumage that they immediately recognized to be a phoenix.

“Sit, please,” the Headmaster invited. “Tea?”

“Yes, please,” Harry said, accepting a cup. Henry declined.

“Despite what your Gryffindor housemates are probably now thinking, I have not called you up here to accuse you of being responsible for these attacks,” Dumbledore said.

Henry frowned. “Then why are we here?”

The old man considered them from across his desk, his fingers steepled together in front of his face. “Is there anything you boys would like to tell me? Anything at all?”

The twins exchanged a wary glance. What did the Headmaster already know?

“No sir,” Harry said finally, “Nothing.”

Dumbledore sighed in disappointment, but stood to walk around his desk and show them their way out. “Well, if you think of anything, please don’t hesitate to come back. I would like to prevent this year from being quite as traumatizing as your last.” He smiled kindly down at them and held the door open for them to leave.

Harry bit his lip and glanced at Henry, who shrugged minutely.

Taking a deep breath, the younger twin offered up a bit of the information they had gathered, “There’s a book…”

The Headmaster’s brow furrowed and he allowed the door to slowly close once more. “A book?”

Henry nodded. “A book that used to belong to Voldemort. A diary, really.”

Dumbledore’s eyes widened and he motioned them back to their seats, new energy filling his own steps as he returned once more to the other side. “What does it do?”

“When you write in it, the ink disappears. If you write as if you’re talking to it, it talks back. The ‘voice’ inside is Tom Riddle at sixteen years old,” Henry said.

“How troubling,” the Headmaster mused, stroking his beard. “How did you come to know of this diary?”

“Lucius Malfoy tried to give it to Ginny Weasley over the summer, but Hen stole it,” Harry said. “It started taking control of him and I took it away and hid it in the room of requirement. But someone’s found it and is using it again. When we went back to find it, it was gone. Whoever has it is responsible for the attacks.”

“Excellent!” Dumbledore said, “So, if we find whoever has the diary, the attacks can be stopped. I see, I see. I think finding it is in both of our best interests. The Board of Governors is threatening to remove me and close the school, and I believe that you will both be faced with the persecution of most of the school starting tomorrow when everyone finds out about Justin.”

“We’ve already started looking for it, Professor,” Henry offered. “We’re going to start spending as much time as we can in the common rooms of all the houses and see if someone uses it in public.”

“That’s probably for the best. A mass search of everyone’s belongings would only breed suspicion and panic as everyone tried to hide the less dangerous things they aren’t supposed to have inside of Hogwarts.” His eyes twinkled with amusement. “I’ll leave you and your friends to it, then. But please come to me if you have any trouble or news.”

The boys nodded with hesitation. Dumbledore saw it clearly.

“You distrust me that much?” he asked gently. The boys looked away and he sighed. “I will admit that I made some bad decisions regarding you boys, both last year and after your parents died. But if I am going to make amends I will need you to, at the very least, acknowledge that I am trying,” he said drily.

Harry smiled slightly, but Henry frowned.

“Perhaps if you tell me why…?” the Headmaster trailed off and waited.

“You spied on my heart’s desire in the Mirror,” Henry said.

“Ah. Yes, I can see why that would upset you. I am sorry.” Dumbledore looked away for a moment. “With most people that you know very well, as I feel I know you both, it is easy to figure out what they would see in the Mirror of Erised. Harry’s desire did not surprise me, but you would not speak of yours, Henry. I was concerned for you. I felt that if you did not acknowledge your heart’s desire it would eat away at you slowly, much as if you had spent every waking moment in front of the mirror as Harry tried to do. I was clearly wrong.”

Henry nodded his acceptance of this explanation, but did not speak.

“How about a trade? I saw your heart’s desire, so I will tell you mine.”

Both boys looked up at him curiously.

The Headmaster took a deep breath. “I see my family, much as Harry does. My mother and sister both alive and well, and my brother standing at my side with the easy camaraderie we had when we were boys. And my father…before he attacked the boys who hurt my sister and was sent to Azkaban.”

Henry let out the breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. “Thank you, sir.”

Dumbledore nodded solemnly.

Harry nibbled his lip. “I spoke to your sister, sir. The painting of her in the Hog’s Head.”

His brother and the old man both looked at him with interest.

“She said that Abe had told her stories about an orphan who came to the school while you were teaching here. That you distrusted him immediately, and were always watching him as though you were waiting for him to do something wrong. You tried to manipulate him into revealing his true nature. And that, because of that, he ended up joining the dark side.” Harry took a deep breath and met the Headmaster’s blue eyes with a haunted gaze. “That is why I don’t trust you. I know it’s not the same, but Henry and I are orphans, and you keep doing what you think is right for us. But you’re not always right, Professor. You’ve proved it time and time again that you are not infallible. With Grindelwald, and Abe, and Ariana, and that orphan, and us.”

Dumbledore reeled back slightly as though he had been burned. “The greater good,” he whispered, a faraway look in his eyes.

“That was Grindelwald’s motto, wasn’t it?” Henry asked. “Why are you still following it even after what he did to your sister, and to you?”

The old man shook his head slowly. “Perhaps I really have been a fool all these years. The orphan she told you of was Tom Riddle, who you know now grew up to become Voldemort. I was so afraid that he would become like Gellert. They were so alike. It did not help that Tom hated me from the very beginning when I visited him in the orphanage to tell him about magic. I was so certain that such hatred was a sure sign of his dark spirit.”

The twins remained silent, taking in the story with sympathy. Dumbledore was not a bad man, they were beginning to see. But perhaps he had been more than a little misguided.

“Am I responsible…?” Dumbledore whispered.

The red and orange bird hopped from its perch to the Headmaster’s shoulder and began preening the long white hair while crooning softly. Sensing that the meeting was over and they should leave, the twins stood and slipped from the office to return to Gryffindor tower and their own troubled dreams.

-o-0-o-

As the Headmaster predicted, life became difficult for the twins after that. Most of the school shunned them, only the Slytherins believing their story and protecting them from the jeers of the other houses. The second quidditch match (Slytherin versus Hufflepuff) came and went, Slytherin winning by a wide margin now that Draco had realized his broom did not suit him and traded it in for a Nimbus 2001 instead.

Christmas holidays approached with the speed of a rampaging rhinoceros and with them most of the Slytherins went home to their families for the break. Luckily, the rest of the school were all eager for a break from the attacks and most of them went home as well. Two more muggleborn students had been attacked in the month since Justin and the Gryffindor ghost had been found.

Draco, surprisingly, approached the twins a few days before the break began to extend his father’s “request” that they join the Malfoys for the holidays. They respectfully declined, remembering that the Dark Lord was likely also currently a guest at the manor.

The small group of spies had thus far had no luck catching someone in any of the common rooms writing in the diary. They kept trying up until the last day before the holidays, and decided to take a break since Hermione would be going home to her family anyway.

Christmas morning dawned bright and cold with piles of brightly wrapped presents at the foot of every student’s bed.

Before they knew it, classes had resumed and all the second years were faced with the decision of what electives they would take starting the next year. Ron signed up for Care of Magical Creatures and Muggle Studies, Hermione signed up for everything, Henry signed up for Ancient Runes and Arithmancy, and Harry added Care of Magical Creatures and Ancient Runes to his schedule.

In March another student was added to the hospital ward and disastrous news struck the castle.

“Dumbledore has been removed!?” Ron asked, panicked.

Hermione nodded. “I saw Mr. Malfoy come to inform him myself. He’s head of the Board of Governors, so it would have to be him who would come.”

“This is terrible!” Harry cried. The twins had not spoken to the Headmaster since November, but without him there they had no way of stopping whoever had the diary when they were caught.

“I know,” Hermione said. “I don’t understand why we’ve had no luck catching the person, either. I would think they would want to write in the diary at every waking moment they possibly could. The only thing I can imagine is that a teacher might have it instead. I _was_ going by the assumption that they would recognize it for what it is and be able to combat it, but…”

“Maybe Lockhart stumbled across the RoR and that’s why he’s been such an abysmal teacher this year,” Henry said drily.

“Yeah, right,” said Ron. “He was already lousy to begin with, I don’t think he’d need the diary to help him.”

“He _does_ seem the most likely to be susceptible to its charm, though,” Hermione mused. They had cured her of her hero-worship before Christmas.

“Well, there’s nothing for it,” Henry stood and prepared to leave the common room where they had gathered.

“What?” Harry asked.

“Trying to catch them is doing us no good, so I think we should find out where the Chamber is and let the teachers or the Ministry stop the basilisk directly.”

“But the teachers have been searching for it all year…” Hermione argued.

“Then it won’t hurt to have another four or five pairs of eyes searching as well. Come on.” He led them to the library for yet another search among the stacks. He grabbed some books on subjects that might be related to whatever the diary was while he was at it.

The end of the year was fast approaching, still with no sign of where the Chamber was or of the return of Dumbledore. The Governors had agreed to keep the school opened so long as there were no more attacks, and it seemed that whoever was responsible had staved off for the moment.

Then, in May, disaster struck yet again.

Ron, Harry, and Henry were studying in the common room when McGonagall entered. Hermione had rushed off to the library earlier in the evening to research something on the spur of the moment. The head of house came over and looked gravely at the three boys.

“I’m afraid I have some bad news,” she said.

Ron stood, his charms text slipping from his fingers to land on the floor. “It’s not Ginny, is it? She didn’t suddenly die because the petrification lasted too long…?”

“Oh, goodness no,” McGonagall grasped her chest at the thought. “Your sister is fine, Mr. Weasley. It’s Ms. Granger, however…she seems to be the newest victim of the basilisk. Only petrified, of course—she was holding a mirror like most of the victims.”

All the boys turned white regardless.

“Can we see her?” Harry asked.

“Well, it’s not as though she can hear you, but I don’t see why not. The school is going to be closed by tomorrow, I’m sure, and everyone sent home. The mandrakes are almost finished so she’ll be home by next month anyway.”

She led them to the hospital wing and the strange statues that occupied the beds in numerous different poses. Hermione’s eyes were wide and terrified where she lay against the white sheets. Another girl, Penelope Clearwater, had been attacked with her, and was holding a mirror in her outstretched hand much like Ginny.

“We think Ms. Granger saw the basilisk in Ms. Clearwater’s mirror,” McGonagall explained.

“Thanks for letting us come, Professor,” Ron said softly, visiting with his sister as well as their best female friend.

“I’ll just leave you here for a few moments,” she said, and left them at that end of the ward alone.

Harry reached out to take one of Hermione’s cold and lifeless hands, curling his fingers around hers and immediately feeling something wedged there in the crevices. “Hold on,” he said, and carefully wiggled it out. The other two boys came over and looked over his shoulder as he unfolded it.

“A blueprint?” Henry asked with confusion. It was a page torn from a library book (he was more than a bit shocked that Hermione had dared such a thing under Madam Pince’s nose). “But it’s from the 1800’s when they remodeled the castle for indoor plumbing…”

He stopped and they all exchanged glances as they realized what this meant. Across one corner of the parchment Hermione had scrawled the word ‘pipes’. 

“The pipes!” Harry cried, the pieces coming together. “That’s how the basilisk is getting around. But what about the Chamber? How are they connected?”

Henry’s brain was going a mile a minute. “Pipes…Myrtle was killed in a bathroom. What if the girl’s bathroom is the entrance to the chamber?”

They peered closely at the blueprint, trying to find that particular room. Hermione had ripped out the page that contained the plumbing designs for the second floor.

“There!” Ron pointed. One of the circular sinks drained into an especially large pipe in that bathroom—one without a marked end on the blueprint.

“They probably thought it was the original drainage pipe and didn’t bother to investigate further,” Harry laughed.

“Are you boys finished?” McGonagall returned, her head tilted curiously at them.

Harry quickly folded the parchment and shoved it in a pocket. 

“Yes, Professor,” they said obediently.

“Then I will escort you back to your common rooms.”

They followed willingly. As they walked, Henry asked, “Professor, what’s going to be done to get rid of the basilisk once all the students are gone?”

She sighed. “I’m reluctant to tell you, Mr. Potter, but we have been unable to find the entrance to the Chamber. The Headmaster will likely be allowed to return in a few days to help remove the monster, but until then I think even the other professors will clear out for a short time.”

He nodded. “And Harry and I will be staying with Abe at the Hog’s Head again this summer…right?”

“Yes, I believe that is Albus’ wish,” she answered with a smile.

They arrived at the tower and she shooed them inside.

Upstairs in the boys’ dormitory, Henry laid out his plan. “Harry and I will be in Hogsmeade when the Headmaster returns. We’ll let him know what we found out so that the entrance can be found and the basilisk got rid of. That way, the school will be able to open again next year without any fuss.”

“What about the diary?” Harry asked. “Whoever has it will probably either try to stay here in the Chamber or take it home with them.”

“Well, without the basilisk around, I don’t see what damage the book could do next year. And if they try to stay, all the better. We’ll know who is responsible and they’ll be caught when they go down into the Chamber to get rid of the snake.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Ron said. “I’m knackered. Let’s get some sleep.”

They curled up in their beds, anticipating the need to leave sometime the next day and wanting to be well rested for whatever happened.

-o-0-o-

They were awoken early the next morning by the deputy Headmistress’ voice amplified to echo through every room and corridor of the castle. “All students, report to your common rooms. Your head of house will be there to speak with you shortly. I repeat, all students, report to your common rooms.”

Stumbling, the second year boys threw on the nearest clean clothes and joined the rest of their housemates in the common room. After five minutes of milling around, McGonagall came to speak to them.

“Is everyone here? Good. I need your utmost attention.” She took a deep breath, as if steeling herself. “A student has been taken down into the Chamber. Everyone is confined to their dormitories until a professor or other adult comes to get you. There will be aurors and other officials from the Ministry in the castle today aiding in an evacuation. When I leave, return to your dormitories and pack your things. House elves will be on call to collect luggage and will take your things as soon as you are done with them. We will start by removing first years and continue up to seventh years. I would not expect you will be able to leave until early afternoon at the earliest. Meals will be provided as needed. Are there any questions?”

Shakily, one of the first years raised her hand, “W-where’s Colin? D-did he get attacked?”

McGonagall closed her eyes for a long moment. “I’m afraid it was Mr. Creevey who was taken into the Chamber, Ms. Willow. Professor Lockhart has also gone missing.” Her lips thinned as she said this.

Several other students gasped and many of the first years who were friends with the boy started crying.

“I know this is very distressing. You are safe in the common room and you will be able to leave and see your families soon.” Nodding to the older prefects, she turned and left through the portrait hole. An ominous locking sound came from it a moment later.

Harry sat heavily in one of the chairs while everyone else went up the stairs to pack or tried to comfort the first years. “Poor Colin. What are we going to do? We know where the Chamber is…if he stays down there too long, what might happen to him?”

Henry bit his lip, feeling guilty. “Maybe we should have told McGonagall last night,” he said.

Ron clapped them both on the shoulder. “You had no way of knowing Colin would be taken. We can tell her when they come to take the first years to the station.”

The twins nodded, the new plan filling them with purpose. The three boys went upstairs to pack. Harry decided to hold on to their invisibility cloak just in case. A trio of house elves appeared to take the trunks as soon as the latches were closed. With nothing else to do, they returned to the common room where everyone who had finished packing was waiting tensely for news from outside.

Hours passed, they nibbled on breakfast, pushed lunch around their plates, and finally, finally the portrait opened and a group of professors entered to escort the first years to Hogsmeade.

“Professor!” Harry, Henry, and Ron all rushed forward to try and get McGonagall’s attention.

“What is it, second years will be leaving shortly,” she answered, distracted as she counted heads.

“We know where the Chamber is!” Ron gasped out quietly so that only she could hear.

She looked at them sharply, eyeing first Ron and then each of the twins. “I made the mistake last year of not listening to you, and you ended up throwing yourselves into danger to protect the Philosopher’s Stone. I will listen this time, but you will have to wait until the first years have been removed from the castle. A group of aurors will arrive in a few moments to collect the second years. Wait for me at Hogsmeade Station, since you won’t be returning on the train anyway.”

“But Professor, what about Colin?” Harry asked, feeling that waiting for McGonagall would take too long when the boy was in danger.

She breathed deeply, her eyes closing. “’His bones will lie in the Chamber forever’, that’s what the message on the wall said this time. He’s been down there since last night, probably directly after the attack on Ms. Granger and Ms. Clearwater—that may even have been a distraction for his abduction.”

The boys paled quickly. “You mean…” Henry said.

“It is possible, even probable,” McGonagall said gently. “At least with your help, we can return him to his parents.”

She turned and gestured for the other teachers to begin leading the first years out of the portrait hole. Harry, Henry, and Ron sat heavily in the nearest chairs.

“What have I done?” Henry asked.

-o-0-o-


	18. Into the Chamber

A large group of aurors wearing red battle robes came into the common room next to fetch the second years. Harry, Henry, and Ron all lined up with the rest of their year mates and crawled through the portrait hole one at a time. The aurors surrounded them completely and marched them cautiously out of the castle. Two of them formed a kind of advance guard, using large hand mirrors to check corners and corridors before letting the group cross through them.

Once they had exited through the front doors of the castle, the aurors hurried them forward much more quickly. All the way down the path to Hogsmeade station, where they met the train full of first years. Anyone who had been petrified had apparently been moved to a newly constructed enclosure near Hagrid’s hut and the greenhouses. They really weren’t taking any chances.

The group of aurors left them at the train, and they were ushered inside by a couple of ministry officials who were guarding the only open door they had allowed near the front of the train. Inside, every car had at least two more officials guarding each exit and entrance. The three boys picked a compartment close to the open door, the better to hear any news that might come in and also so that the twins could leave before the train left.

“This is really serious,” Ron whispered, a white pallor coming over his face as they watched another group being brought down from the castle.

Henry said nothing, having returned to his hunched and miserable appearance.

“I’m glad to see that McGonagall isn’t taking any chances,” Harry said. “I’m not sure Dumbledore would have done all this to get the students out safely.”

Ron nodded slightly, reminded that if the school had been closed when they first found out what was attacking the students, his sister would not be in the hospital wing for most of her first year.

A sudden hiss from Henry caught their attention. He looked at Harry with wide eyes, one hand clutching at the scar on his cheek.

“He’s _happy_ ,” Henry said incredulously. “Really, deliriously, _happy_.”

“He’s _here_?” Harry asked in alarm. Henry nodded. “But that means…”

“If the snake hasn’t already gotten to Colin, You-Know-Who soon will,” Ron said in alarm.

Harry stood and quickly looked out the window at the approaching group of students. “Look, McGonagall is with this group. We have to warn her and everyone else!”

They opened the door to the compartment, and a woman wearing ministry robes quickly came to block the exit, frowning at them. “What’s wrong? Need the loo?”

Ron, in the lead, thought quickly. She was only one of two aurors on this car. “Yes please! Can you take me? I don’t feel safe going alone. Not with _invisible_ monsters roaming around the castle.”

Her mouth pinched in annoyance. “Basilisks aren’t invisible. Come on then. You two stay here,” she told the twins.

They let her lead Ron away and held the door open so that it wouldn’t close just yet. “Remind me to tell him that he’s bloody brilliant,” Henry told his brother. Harry just grinned and pulled out the invisibility cloak, throwing it over the both of them. They left the compartment, slowly letting the door close so that it looked like it was just a bit sticky rather than having been held open. The three steps leading off of the train were empty, the officials outside standing to either side of them. They carefully crept down them, careful to not make a noise. Outside, they saw that the teachers and what looked like a group of third year Hufflepuffs were almost at the station.

“Come on, let’s get to the other edge of the platform. We can stop McGonagall when she’s leaving to get another group,” Henry said.

They stood next to the platform steps and waited for the students to pass them, then went down to wait on the grass below.

Moments later, however, the head of house’s voice drifted down to them, “I need to speak with Harry and Henry Potter. Can you find them?”

“Blast!” Harry cried. They dashed back up the steps and pulled off the cloak.

“Over here, Professor!” Harry called.

She looked over. “Oh!” The group of teachers came to gather around them.

Snape sneered at them, “Minerva says that you know where the Chamber of Secrets is?”

“Yes, but things have gotten worse,” Henry said. “The Dark Lord is here.”

“What?” McGonagall gasped.

“My scar started twinging like it did at the end of last year when Quirrell attacked us. And I could tell that he was really, really, happy about something,” Henry explained.

Snape had gone still, a strange glint in his eyes. “Minerva,” he said slowly. “You and the other teachers continue to evacuate the students. I will escort Messirs Potter to the location of the Chamber and try to see if Mr. Creevey can be rescued safely. If the Dark Lord is here, the boy’s time may be quickly running out.”

“I cannot condone this, Severus. Taking two second years to possibly face the basilisk and the dark lord—again, I might add—is extremely foolhardy, especially for you.”

“You must realize that they are the only ones who can even open the Chamber, Minerva,” he argued. “And I am the best choice if the Dark Lord is involved. These boys will be in no undue danger.”

Her lips pinched tightly.

“Please, Professor,” Henry said, “Let us try to save Colin? We’ve known where the Chamber was since last night. If we had told you then…”

Her eyes softened. “I doubt I would have been able to gather the necessary forces in time,” she admitted. Sighing, she pierced Snape with her worst glare. “Take care of them. If _anything_ happens to them, I’m holding you responsible.”

Snape bowed slightly and then turned to the twins, motioning for them to lead the way.

The other professors followed them to the entrance hall before they parted ways. Harry and Henry led the potions professor unerringly to the girl’s bathroom on the second floor.

“A girl’s _bathroom_?” Snape sneered. He paused when he stepped inside and then did something they had never heard before. He _laughed_.

“What’s so funny, Professor?” Harry asked, somewhat rudely. They were on a rescue mission, after all.

Snape snickered a few more times before calming down. “I was just imagining the Dark Lord coming in here as a student to get to the Chamber.”

The twins couldn’t help but smile and walked towards the round sink opposite the door. “The blueprints of the castle revealed a large pipe here that these sinks drain into,” Harry said.

They examined the sinks carefully, looking for any sign of a mechanism to open them. They turned every tap, and peered down every drain. Finally, Harry spotted it—a small carved snake on one of the faucets. “ _Open_ ,” he hissed to it.

A great rumbling shook the room and the sinks sunk down into the floor, revealing a large pipe in their place.

“ _Lumos_ ,” Harry whispered, shining his wand light down into the hole. There didn’t seem to be a bottom to it. “Nothing for it,” he said. And with a shrug, he jumped down the hole.

Snape let out a strangled cry, his hand reaching out to stop the younger twin a second too late. He looked at Henry incredulously, but the boy just grimaced, hand rubbing his heart.

“Must be a very deep hole,” Henry muttered. “He’s not hurt Professor—in fact, he seemed to be having fun.” And then he jumped, too.

“Gryffindors!” Snape snarled to the empty room. “Henry Potter, you have clearly been spending too much time in Gryffindor tower!” he yelled down the pipe. Then, with a reluctant sigh and a muttered anti-grime spell cast over his robes, he jumped.

The pipe twisted and turned all the way to the bottom, where he shot out with a lurch and landed on a pile of what felt suspiciously like bones.

“Welcome, Professor!” Harry said cheerfully.

The trio began picking their way through the veritable field of bones, and froze as they entered a new section of the chamber. A giant snakeskin was literally filling every portion of the room.

“Whoa,” Henry said.

“Indeed,” Snape returned.

“Onward!” Harry cried, having the time of his life.

They kept going and came upon an ornate circular seal with numerous carved snakes and other designs set into the wall.

“ _Open_ ,” Harry said, again. The seal rolled to one side and they entered a much more refined, _Slytherin_ , chamber. This one was covered in uniform gray stones, exactly like the rest of the castle. A long walkway stretched before them, snake carvings and statues lining it on either side. At the end of the long stretch, they saw two figures standing before a statue of the founder, a pale blond-haired child stretched out on the ground between them.

“Colin,” Henry breathed. Before Snape could stop them, both boys were running forward to rescue the boy.

The two standing figures looked over at them as they approached. The older one’s eyes lit up as he spied Snape following more cautiously behind the twins.

“S-s-severus-s-s,” he hissed slowly.

Snape approached a little further and then fell to his knees before the man. “My lord…”

“It has been a long time, Severus,” the other figure murmured. Snape looked up in surprise, a slight blush suffusing his cheeks. The younger man—no older than twenty-five—grinned.

The twins ignored them and knelt next to Colin’s still form. “Colin!” Harry said, shaking him.

“He won’t wake,” the young man told them. Harry looked up at him for the first time. He looked eerily similar to he and his brother. Tall, with black hair and grey-green eyes. He was wearing black robes in an older style and appeared to be quite poised and aristocratic. Harry’s eyes fell on a familiar black book lying on the floor.

“You-you’re Tom Riddle!” he accused. Memories suddenly came back with a rush. He remembered a conversation that he and Henry had had with Snape earlier in the year, when the diary first went missing. Harry turned to glare at Snape as he remembered being _obliviated_ but found that he had more questions than hatred for the man.

Henry was remembering too and looked in alarm between Colin and the diary and the very real Tom standing in front of them. He stood. “You drained his life away, using your diary, to bring yourself back to life. So, it really was a horcrux…”

The older man cried out in rage, a wand suddenly appearing in his hand to be trained on Henry, “How!?” he screeched in a high, cold voice. 

“My lord!” Snape was suddenly on his feet, grasping the Dark Lord’s wrist behind the wand. “I am afraid that I am duty bound to protect them as long as they are under my care,” he whispered.

The wand slowly lowered, but the eyes that had flashed red in rage stayed trained on Henry with a menacing leer.

“Perhaps we should conclude our business before dealing with our guests?” Tom Riddle suggested drily.

Voldemort sneered at his younger self, and said, “I do not agree with this joining you are asking me for. I worked too hard to get to this point!”

Riddle sighed, “You are only one sixty-fourth the man you once were, and you claim that you are better this way? Together we would be more than half of a full person. And I believe,” he glanced at Snape, “closer in age to our…pet.”

Harry’s mind quickly put together the pieces by combining Snape’s story of love after their mother with the conversation now taking place. But he really didn’t want to go there right now. Kneeling, he felt at Colin’s neck for a pulse. The boy’s skin was clammy and cold, his eyes staring lifelessly at the ceiling above them. Gently, Harry closed the lids with his fingers and turned to confront the man responsible.

“You…you bastard!” he snarled at Tom Riddle.

Henry glanced quickly at Colin’s still form, and then away. “How could you?” he whispered.

“Come, come, Henry, my _friend_. Surely you cannot fault me for wishing to live once more? He was only a mudblood, after all.”

Henry whipped out his wand, “ _Confringo_!” Tom stepped calmly to one side and the reddish-purple curse flew past him to smash a sizable hole in the wall. Harry followed suit with an _expelliarmus_ which Tom didn’t bother to dodge, but as he wasn’t holding a wand it did nothing.

“Severus, may I ask that you bind these children until we finish our discussion?” Tom asked the potions master.

Snape reluctantly brandished his wand at the twins and cast _incarcerous_ on them. Neatly trussed and tied, they sat heavily on the damp floor beside Colin’s body.

Before the two dark lords could continue arguing, Snape turned to Voldemort and said, “My lord, please reconsider. Dividing your soul so many times caused you to lose your sanity piece by piece, and your ideals with it. Please…”

Voldemort frowned dangerously, considering his younger self. “We will create more horcruxes if you are wrong?” he asked.

Tom nodded.

With a sigh, the Dark Lord nodded. He closed the eyes of his borrowed body and as they watched, a dark formless shape began to exude almost from the man’s skin. A moment later the body he had been using fell to the floor, dead, and the dark shape of his soul floated across the room to join with the younger Tom Riddle. Tom stiffened as it struck him, clenching his teeth for a few moments before a long and agonizing scream was torn from his lips. His skin bubbled and reshaped over muscles and bones, the scream continuing as the pieces of his soul combined once more. The twins and Snape watched on in horrified fascination as he grew older and taller until at last, a new Tom stood in his place. Harry estimated him to be around thirty-five years old.

Tom sighed in relief as he flexed his new arms, hands, and fingers. “Finally, I feel almost like a real person again.”

“My lord!” Snape gasped, falling to his knees again. “I am so glad to see you returned to yourself once more.”

“Stand up, Severus. The rules of the past no longer apply. I will have to rebuild everything from scratch, including my followers.”

Henry glared malevolently at the Dark Lord and Snape, but could not help wondering if this Tom was not the same as the evil Lord Voldemort. Beside him, Harry shifted slightly, straining against his bonds to reach his wand.

Tom turned to them. “I will let you go and leave here peacefully without harming another student, but you must come to me at some point this summer. Both of you.”

Snape looked between the twins and his master in confusion.

Henry raised an eyebrow at the potions master. So he didn’t know that Henry was a horcrux? How interesting. “Why?” he asked.

The Dark Lord pierced him with grey-green eyes. “I think you know why, Henry. You will not be harmed while under my care.” He paused. “Much.”

He turned away from them and approached Severus, reaching out one long-fingered hand to caress the potions master’s face. “I have missed you, S-severus-s-s.” The name held a seductive hiss that caused their professor to close his eyes and lean his cheek into the hand.

“And I, you, master.”

Tom kissed the other man chastely and turned to walk away towards one wall of the chamber. “I will contact you when the time is right,” he promised. “ _Open_ ,” he hissed to the wall. A section of it melted away in a similar fashion to the portal at Diagon Alley. Beyond, they could see a slanted tunnel that presumably led out of the castle.

Snape waited until the Dark Lord had gone and the portal closed behind him before releasing the twins. Harry’s wand was trained on the man in an instant, but Henry grabbed his wrist and forced it back down. 

“I presume you have questions,” Snape said silkily, completely unconcerned at being threatened by a second year. “But perhaps you would like to wait and think about things before you ask them. Let’s get Mr. Creevey’s body out of here and inform Minerva that the basilisk is nowhere to be found. I doubt anyone will be releasing it again now that the diary is empty of Tom’s soul.”

“It would be better to tell her we killed it,” Henry said. “Otherwise, you might have to reveal the horcruxes to her. I doubt that would end well.”

Snape inclined his head slightly. “I will think about it. Come. _Levicorpus_.”

The body the Dark Lord had been inhabiting and Colin’s body rose to their feet and hovered there limply above the ground. Snape picked up the diary and placed it in his pocket. The bodies followed them eerily out of the Chamber, bobbing along like specters haunting them from beyond the grave.

When they reached the pipe that led back up, Snape sneered at them. “Perhaps if you asked for _stairs_ this time?”

Henry suppressed a smile, seeing that Harry was still livid with the man. “ _S-s-stairs_?” he tried. There was a grinding noise from above and moments later the plinths where the sinks were mounted had rotated down around the edge to rest at their feet.

“Even better,” Snape muttered. He stepped onto one of the plinths, guiding Colin and the other body with his wand onto another. Harry and Henry took two others and waited for something to happen. 

When nothing did, Henry sighed and said, “ _Up_?” The plinths began to rotate slowly around the edge at once.

“Indeed,” said Snape, probably having grasped the questioning tone of Henry’s hissing.

At the top, an empty bathroom greeted them. Snape guided them quickly through the halls and out the front doors. In the time they were in the Chamber, the rest of the students must have been evacuated because all of the professors and a number of aurors and ministry officials were waiting for them.

McGonagall paled when she caught sight of Colin. “Is he…?”

Snape nodded gravely.

The gathered crowd of people gasped or cried out. The professors all frowned sadly and took the boy’s body from Snape’s spell, gently carrying him down to the enclosure where the other victims of the basilisk waited for the mandrakes to be ready. The aurors took the other body after hearing that the Dark Lord had been possessing the unknown man and the members of the ministry followed, leaving the deputy headmistress to speak to the potions master about what had occurred.

“What of the basilisk?” McGonagall asked a moment later.

Snape shrugged. “We did not see it. There was a brief confrontation with the Dark Lord. He has regained his body once more.”

She looked sharply at the twins. “And he didn’t hurt you?” There was a note of incredulity and suspicion in her voice.

Henry shook his head, Harry just scowled.

“I believe he got what he came for when he recovered his body,” Snape offered. “He agreed to leave without harming any other students.”

“How odd,” McGonagall muttered. “That sounds like something the Tom Riddle I went to school with would do.”

“He appears to be about the same age as me now,” Snape said. “He combined with an image of himself at sixteen—though I will admit, he looked older—that he used Mr. Creevey’s life force to create.”

“How?”

“I believe that Albus would not want me to share that information. I don’t think he knows I know, either,” Snape said mildly.

“Very well,” she frowned. Turning to the twins, she said, “Your things have been taken to the Hog’s Head. Be careful going to Hogsmeade, but you can go about where you please. Just not into the castle.”

They nodded and walked down the path towards the small village. They had a lot of thinking to do.

-o-0-o-


	19. The Worst Summer

Harry led his brother through Hogsmeade and the pair entered the Hog’s Head wearily. He glanced briefly at Abe, who raised his eyebrows at their dirty and somewhat the worse for wear appearance, but said nothing to the man and instead walked up the old wooden stairs and entered the room they had occupied the summer before.

Once they were inside, he heard Henry close the door with a soft snap. Harry turned, his hands clenching into fists. “Snape has to go,” he snarled.

Henry inhaled sharply at his tone of voice and took an involuntary step backwards. He had never seen Harry so _enraged_. “But…” he started to argue.

“No, Henry. I know he’s your head of house and up until now I’ve never had a real reason to dislike him. He’s done good by us, and I had even started to like his snarky attitude. But that—” he paused, searching for words, “He’s with the _Dark Lord_ of all people, and he _obliviated_ us!”

Henry sat on the edge of the bed and mulled things over. It was true that he still felt like Snape was trustworthy. He even wondered if the Tom who had merged with Voldemort might be the same as that Slytherin boy he had made friends with in the diary. He shook his head at himself. No, not friends. Tom had been using him from the beginning of that relationship, twisting his words and the truth to make Henry trust him. And as for Snape—could he really trust a man could and would do anything to bring back his mass-murdering lover for a repeat attempt at world domination?

He gestured helplessly at his brother, who was waiting patiently for him to share his opinion, “I think I might be too close to this issue to decide anything,” he admitted.

Harry nodded. He knew he was asking a lot of his brother, but they needed to decide where they stood _now_ , before the Dark Lord got hold of them—for he had no doubt that if they did not come willingly to hear what the newly reborn man had to say, they would be brought forcefully.

“A part of me wants to know if this Tom is the same as the one I knew from the diary,” Henry continued, “But I know that that Tom was fake, for the most part. And I still feel like I should trust Snape, but at the same time I know that I can’t afford to. Things have gotten high-stake a little too fast for me to keep up.”

Harry sat beside his brother on the bed. “Then we compromise,” he decided. “I may want Snape dead, but you aren’t able to decide whether that is just or not. And I don’t want to do anything at this stage that will drive us apart. I’m getting the feeling that we’re all each other is going to have for a long, long time.”

Henry leaned against his twin’s shoulder and sighed. “What do you have in mind, then?”

“We get rid of him,” Harry said promptly. “Having someone so close to the Dark Lord in the school near _us_ is a really bad idea. So if we can’t kill him, let’s get him sacked. It shouldn’t be too hard to convince Dumbledore that it’s in his best interest to get rid of him, not once we lay out all the evidence.”

“Okay,” Henry said softly, sadness creeping into his voice. His house wouldn’t be the same without the dour man—he had worked hard over the years to ensure that Slytherin remained united. “What are we going to do about Voldemort?”

“Snape mentioned something about a prophecy before he _obliviated_ us,” Harry mused. His memories were still a little fuzzy, making it hard to remember the conversation.

“He also said that neither we nor the Dark Lord could live while the other survived,” Henry stated. “But what does that even mean?”

“It might be something from the prophecy,” Harry said. “So it seems we have another reason to talk to Dumbledore. The real question is, whose side are we on?”

Henry lifted his head to look at his brother. “Surely you aren’t suggesting we join Voldemort? He killed our parents, Harry!”

Harry shook his head. “What I’m saying, Hen, is that whichever side _you_ choose will be the one I join. No matter which side that is. I refuse to fight against you.”

“So you’re making me choose?”

“No, Hen,” Harry hugged his brother tightly, “but you’re the one who is tied to the Dark Lord. It may be that you _can’t_ fight against him. We don’t really know what you being a horcrux will mean.”

Henry started a bit. “I didn’t think you knew…”

“I’m not _that_ dense, idiot,” Harry laughed. “Besides, after Snape mentioned it, I immediately connected the dots to what Hermione said about you being the one who can speak parseltongue because of your connection to Voldemort.”

Henry nodded. “It makes me feel dirty, having a piece of his soul inside of me.”

“But you have a piece of me as well,” Harry reminded him. “Just focus on that.”

Henry breathed in deeply and felt for that connection to his other half. The bond was warm and inviting and he sank his subconscious self into it, relishing in the gentle heat and _love_ he felt Harry projecting across to him. He gave himself up to his brother’s love and returned the favor whole-heartedly.

Harry breathed in sharply as he felt the return of Henry’s feelings. A strange heat seemed to settle in the deepest depths of his stomach, and he suddenly felt short of breath, his throat dry as his stomach flopped twice. Henry cuddled closer into the circle of his arms, his eyes closed and his face tilted upwards to him where he rested on Harry’s shoulder. The older boys’ lips were smiling gently, an utterly happy expression suffusing across his features as Harry watched.

His hand seemed to rise of its own volition to caress the other boy’s face, and his eyes riveted to those lips. Harry leaned in and pressed his forehead to Henry’s, closing his eyes as he gulped shakily. What was wrong with him? He felt so strange.

Henry could feel Harry’s soft breath feathering across his own lips and opened his eyes slowly. His brother’s face was twisted slightly as though he were in pain. “What’s wrong?”

Harry gasped and sat back abruptly. “Nothing!”

Henry sat up as the warm body that had been supporting him pulled away. Harry was… _blushing_? An image of he and his brother in the Mirror of Erised rose unbidden in his memory and his chest began to feel very tight as he tried to breathe. 

Harry stood and bent over his trunk on the floor in the middle of the room, undoing the latches and pulling out parchment, quill and ink.

Henry averted his eyes from his brother’s upturned arse and clenched both eyes and fists firmly closed. He tried to focus on what Harry was saying.

“I’ll write a letter to Dumbledore telling him we need to speak with him privately at the first opportunity.”

“Okay,” Henry said.

“And then we should probably get some sleep. It’s been a long day.”

“Yeah.” Henry stood and pulled some pajamas out of his own trunk, and started changing in front of his brother as he always had, only to feel that same strange tightness in his chest at the thought of Harry watching him. Without a word, he scuttled out of their room and changed quickly in the bathroom across the way, then returned and settled into his side of the bed as Harry was handing the letter to Hedwig to deliver.

Harry did change in the same room, and Henry found it quite difficult to tear his eyes away, wondering if his spine was just as bumpy and bony as Harry’s or if his hamstrings in the back of his legs were just as prominent. 

Harry crawled into bed beside him, but kept his back turned to the other boy to hide his blush. Things were awkward for several minutes as Henry turned to face the opposite direction.

For the first time in a long time, they slept at opposite edges of the mattress with their backs to one another.

-o-0-o-

Dumbledore’s reply arrived the next morning:

_Dear boys,_

_Due to the premature ending of the school  
year, there is quite a bit of paperwork that   
I need to handle before I can meet with you.   
I believe my schedule should be free by   
Friday—how about we meet for lunch that   
day in the Hog’s Head? I’m afraid that no  
student is allowed back into the school   
until we can prove that the basilisk will not   
be emerging any longer, so we cannot meet   
in my office as I would like. I appreciate   
your discretion in asking for a private  
meeting, however, so be assured that I will  
be able to handle the matter effectively even  
in the Hog’s Head._

_Cheers,  
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore  
Headmaster, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

“It’s hard to believe that he’s a halfblood, with a name like that,” Harry commented absently. The awkwardness he had felt towards his brother had faded over the night and now he was relieved to be able to act normally.

“Write him a note back saying that the time and day is fine,” Henry said, marking his place in the book he had been reading.

Harry did so and sent Hedwig on the brief flight up to the castle. “A whole week,” he lamented as he watched her wing away.

“I know.” Henry sighed and stood, stretching his stiff limbs. “Cross your fingers that Voldemort won’t request his ‘audience’ before we get a chance to speak to Dumbledore.”

Their worries were for nothing, of course, for Friday came and lunch with the Headmaster with it and no word yet from the Dark Lord.

Abe took their orders for lunch with great disgruntlement, but the food was hot and delicious when he brought it out. The Headmaster made small talk with them until they had their food, and when Abe turned and walked away, he cast a strange privacy ward that the twins had never seen before.

“What spell is that?” Henry asked, ever curious.

Dumbledore chuckled, “ _Muffliato_ combined with a disillusion ward—makes you hard to hear _and_ hard to see, which rather discourages eavesdroppers, as you might imagine.” He cut into his steak and kidney pie—Abe’s best cooking was the simpler things that a more prestigious inn would never think of serving—and then asked, “So, what did you need to talk to me about? Something to do with Voldemort’s return and your adventure in the Chamber?”

Harry decided that since he was more sure about this, he would take the lead. “Sort of, Professor. It’s more about Snape.”

“Professor Snape, Harry,” Dumbledore chided him.

Harry shook his head firmly. “He no longer deserves my respect.” The Headmaster raised an eyebrow and paused with a bite of pie halfway to his mouth. “I’m afraid there may be some things you don’t know about Snape, Professor. For one, he’s madly in love with a certain Dark Lord and allowed Colin to die so that he could return.”

Dumbledore lowered the bite back to his plate uneaten. “I see,” he said sadly. “Love makes fools of us all, I’m afraid.”

“There’s more,” Harry said. “After we first realized what the monster in the Chamber was, he talked to us about the Dark Lord, spouting off about his ideals and how he had changed. He believed that Voldemort could be returned to his former self—which I assume now is because he knew about the horcruxes and thought that recombining them would bring Tom Riddle back.”

The Headmaster’s gaze riveted on Harry’s when the word ‘horcruxes’ was mentioned. “So you remembered that bit of information?” he directed the question at Henry.

The boy frowned. “How did you know…?”

“I was not spying on you, so do not fear.” Dumbledore sighed. “It was an agreement I made with Madam Pince after I became Headmaster. During his time here as a student, Tom Riddle also investigated for knowledge of soul magic and soul bonds—including the creation of horcruxes. I asked her to let me know anytime a student asked for such information so I could keep an eye on them. You didn’t worry me, because I know it was the bond between you and your brother that caused your search. At the end of your first year, I began to suspect more firmly that Tom had created a horcrux—perhaps more than one. I have been pursuing the matter ever since, but I’m afraid I have yet to discover any of them or even how many there might have been.”

“Back to Snape…?” Harry asked.

“Of course,” Dumbledore waved him on.

“He also mentioned a prophecy to us…” he got no further, because Dumbledore suddenly stood and an enraged look passed across his features.

“He told you the prophecy!?”

Harry shrunk away, now realizing that the man he was speaking to was quite powerful. An almost invisible aura of magic was making the air around him shimmer. “N-no…”

Dumbledore calmed immediately and sat again, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes. “Forgive me,” he said finally. “That is one piece of information I would have liked to keep from you.”

“Why? What does the prophecy say?” Henry asked, his eyes narrowing.

The Headmaster ignored the question. “He shouldn’t even have been _able_ to tell you about the prophecy—I made him take an unbreakable vow…ah, of course.” He shook his head sadly to himself.

“What?” Harry asked.

“I tend to forget that Severus is a Slytherin at times. I fear my affection for him blinded me. You see, the vow stated that he could not tell anyone the prophecy, but not that he couldn’t speak _of_ the prophecy. How very short-sighted of me.”

Harry made a small noise of impatience in the back of his throat. “So to summarize, he told us about the Dark Lord’s former goals, how he could change, and about the prophecy and then he _obliviated_ us.”

Dumbledore stared at them in surprise. “Then how…?”

“He must have put a condition in the spell,” Henry offered. “I was wondering how we could have remembered right when we confronted Voldemort again, but I did some reading, and that seems the most plausible explanation.”

“Ah. I cannot believe that he would risk such a thing with students…” Dumbledore shook his head in confusion and sadness.

“Which brings me to my point,” Harry said, leaning forward to impart the importance of his words. “Snape cannot be allowed to remain in Hogwarts. He is completely loyal to the Dark Lord, despite any affection he might feel towards you or his students. What’s more, Voldemort has requested that we meet with him sometime this summer. If Snape is in the school next year, I don’t know what will happen if the Dark Lord suddenly decides he wants to kill us or see us or whatever.”

Bright blue eyes closed slowly as though in pain. “You are right, of course. I think I will be able to find a suitable replacement for both the Potions position and the Slytherin Head of House, especially now that Voldemort has returned. I have already filled the DADA position for next year as well.”

“Good,” Harry said firmly. “Now, tell us about this prophecy.”

The Headmaster’s eyes popped open in surprise. “I cannot.”

“Can’t or won’t?” Henry asked stubbornly.

The old man’s lips thinned. “Won’t.”

“Why?” both twins asked together.

Dumbledore sighed. “It was my wish that you have as normal a childhood as possible. I would keep the prophecy from you until you graduate if I could.”

“But things have changed, Professor,” Harry argued. “Voldemort is back and is interested in _us_. We don’t just want to know, we _need_ to know.”

Those blue eyes darted between their determined faces for several moments before he sighed again. “ _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches, born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies. And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal and he will have power the Dark Lord knows not. And either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies._ ”

Twin green eyes became puzzled as they mulled over the words of the prophecy.

“So…” Henry said slowly, “You think that the prophecy means that one of us has to kill the Dark Lord or be killed ourselves?”

“Yes,” Dumbledore nodded, “And I haven’t a clue which of you it means. You were both marked—those scars on your cheeks—but the prophecy specifically states that only _one_ of you will be the one to finish the job.”

“Have you ever considered,” Harry said drily, “That the prophecy does not speak of either of us, but someone else?”

The Headmaster blinked, then inexplicably started laughing. “Wouldn’t that just show me?” he crowed. “There was another boy born at the end of July that year, Neville Longbottom. I assumed that it would be the child Tom attacked who would end up vanquishing him, but perhaps you are right and I am wrong—again, I might add.” He continued to chuckle. “But I think it is more likely that one of you was the Dark Lord’s true target, and the other was marked either because of the nature of your bond or because of residual power from the Killing Curse.”

“Then it would be Henry,” Harry stated with quiet assurance. Both his brother and Dumbledore looked at him curiously, so he elaborated. “I’ve been thinking about it—Henry is the one connected to the Dark Lord by their traded souls. And yes, Professor, we have already realized that Henry is a horcrux, we just aren’t sure what that will do to him. Anyway…” He picked up the salt and pepper shaker from their table and reached over to the one next to them to grab a second pepper shaker. “If you think of Hen and I as the pepper, and Voldemort as the salt...” He positioned the peppers next to each other, and the salt across from it. He plucked the toothpick from his sandwich and gave it to the salt shaker in place of a wand. “The Dark Lord aimed his spell at Henry, and hit me as well.” A small pea sailed across the short distance between the salt and the pepper. “But from what I have gathered about the creation of horcruxes, they’re intended to be inanimate objects. So what happens when you use a living being as a vessel for part of your soul?”

Henry and Dumbledore both shook their heads—they didn’t know either.

“I think, and this is pure theory based on what I know, that no one can have _more_ than a full soul in their body at any one time. So if you use a living being to hold your horcrux, by necessity, they would have to lose a piece of their soul to hold on to yours. So not only does Voldemort’s soul reside in Henry, _part of Henry’s soul is in Voldemort as well_.”

“Dear Merlin!” Dumbledore gasped, looking at the tableau in horror.

“But there’s also the bond that was created between Henry and I at the same moment,” Harry continued, and prepared the pea to make the journey from the salt to the pepper again. “So, Henry was the primary target and bore the brunt of the curse, but I was hit in the same moment. Now, and this is more conjecture, theoretically when you are hit with the Killing Curse your entire soul is separated from your body instantly. So both my soul and Henry’s were out of our bodies for a moment. And because he was trying to create a horcrux at the time, so was Voldemort’s. So in the instant that Voldemort’s soul was being split for whatever vessel he had in mind, the spell on us backfired and smashed him into vapor, but he survived because of his horcruxes. But the bit of split soul had to go somewhere, and without direction it tried to find the thing most similar to where it _should_ have been—Henry’s body. But Henry didn’t have room for it, so his own soul split and a bit the same size as the bit from Voldemort went to the Dark Lord as he was vaporizing, and probably is the reason he didn’t instantly die and was trapped as a spirit—because Henry was still alive.”

The salt shaker was toppled over and returned to its spot on the table. Harry took a deep breath. “By all rights, we still should have died. After all, our souls were outside of our bodies. But whatever it was that rebounded the curse also did something else. After all, the Dark Lord and Henry had traded souls, but I don’t think that the Killing Curse is responsible for our soul bond. As far as I know, that spell does not split the soul of the victim; else this sort of thing would happen all the time. So somehow, whatever protected us bound us together and I got the half of Henry’s soul that was not connected to Voldemort, and he got half of mine.”

Dumbledore was nodding with excitement, “Of course! Your mother’s love!”

The twins blinked at him.

“The thing that I believe protected you was your mother’s sacrifice. From what I understand of that night, she refused to back down from the Dark Lord and offered up her own life to save both of you. Love, despite what you might think, is a powerful thing. Not only did it deflect the Dark Lord’s curse, it also continued to protect you when you might have died. I don’t really know why that meant your souls should be bound together, but it’s the only explanation I can give you.”

Henry gripped Harry’s hand with his own.

“Well done, Harry,” the Headmaster said, a proud twinkle returning to his eyes. “I would give you a large number of points for that brilliant deduction, but I’m afraid school is not in session. Perhaps I will think of some reason at the beginning of next term.” He winked.

“So I have to defeat the Dark Lord?” Henry asked, stunned as he realized the gist of everything Harry had said.

“So it would seem,” Dumbledore agreed. 

“Well…” Harry paused and studied the nearly empty plates before them. “Lunch is over, Professor. You’ve agreed that Snape has to go, and we’ve discussed the prophecy and my theory. I think all of us have some thinking to do. Perhaps we can meet again after Henry and I have spoken to the Dark Lord?”

Dumbledore frowned. “I do wish that I could prevent that meeting, you know.” He sighed. “But alas, I cannot do much of anything, can I? Do let me know when the meeting is if he gives you warning, and be sure to let me know the moment you return.”

The twins nodded. The Headmaster stood and smoothed down his robes, brushing a few crumbs of pastry from his beard as well. He wiggled his fingers at the boys, nodded to Abe standing behind the counter, and left.

Abe looked at the twins curiously. He hadn’t been able to hear or see anything of their conversation behind the ward, but he had been able to tell that Albus had gotten very angry at some point, and that a deeply simmered bubble of anxiety still lay tensed under the grandfatherly demeanor that his brother favored.

The twins smiled tiredly at him and then retired back upstairs to their room. Henry returned to the book he had been reading and Harry pulled out some of his summer work—the professors had owled it out after the students returned home early—to complete it now, so he had the rest of the long summer to relax and go flying.

-o-0-o-

Time passed from late spring into true summer before the Dark Lord’s summons came. A jet black owl arrived on the morning of the day before their birthday, ‘requesting’ that they join Voldemort that afternoon. There was no mention of how they were to get there or who would be coming for them. Henry strongly suspected it would be Snape, and watched worriedly as his brother paced the small confines of their room as they waited. An owl had already been sent off to Dumbledore letting him know of the meeting time.

Harry was having reservations about the meeting with the Dark Lord. Neither of them really wanted to go, but they were resigned to the fact that they had little choice. They couldn’t even realistically stop the man from killing them, since they were forbidden to do magic over the summer. And then there was the fact that Snape would quickly be within easy attack range. The wand he held clenched in his right hand emitted sparks as he thought of all the spells he’d like to use on the man. The idea of seeing both of his most hated enemies in the same room again made his fingers twitch on the thin length of wood.

The murmur of voices downstairs caught his attention, and he turned towards the door just as Abe called out, “Time to go, boys!”

They trooped cautiously down the back stairs into the kitchen and peered around the doorframe to look at the bar. There was Snape, looking strange without his teaching robes on. He was still dressed in the same high-collared black frock coat, but his pants were a little tighter and interrupted by knee-high black boots that laced up the front. His robes were the kind that Harry associated with aurors—designed for battle and made of a very light and spell-resistant fabric. These, too, were black, and slitted up both legs and in the back with no sleeves.

Dumbledore had agreed not to inform the man of his enforced resignation until after the twins were safely returned from their meeting with Voldemort. Snape merely raised an eyebrow at Harry’s wand and turned to lead the way outside, nodding to Abe.

Outside, the dark man grabbed one of each twins’ arms and made a short spin in place, pulling them with him. They experienced the strange sensation of being squeezed through a tube that was entirely too small for them and then appeared quite suddenly in what appeared to be an elaborately decorated foyer to a mansion.

Henry immediately recognized the peacock crest hanging above the front door and asked Snape, “How is Draco?”

Snape frowned slightly, looking up and to his left as though he could see through the wall to find the boy. “He is…fine. Lucius has kept him largely confined to his room after certain events that occurred earlier this summer. But he will return to Hogwarts in the fall with the rest of his year mates.”

Henry grimaced worriedly, but fell into step with the older man and his brother as they were led through Malfoy Manor. 

The room they ended up in was a small sitting room close to the entrance hall where they had arrived. The Dark Lord was already within, sitting in a wing-backed chair in one corner and sipping a cup of tea as though he were a perfectly normal human being.

Even Harry found it hard to equate this man with the mass-murdering megalomaniac they had heard so much about from their elders.

“Ah, the Potters.” Voldemort somehow managed to smirk pleasantly at them. “Welcome, please have a seat.” He waved to the chairs across from him, and the twins sat with some trepidation.

Their fear was rewarded a moment later when ropes sprang into existence and tied them tightly to the chairs. Snape smirked, putting away his wand and sitting in the remaining chair beside Voldemort.

“Severus, really,” Tom chided him softly, “you could have at least let me offer them some tea first.”

“They would have thought it poisoned and refused to drink,” Snape countered, settling comfortably into his chair and pouring himself a cup of the hot brew.

“True,” the other man said thoughtfully. He studied the twins over the brim of his cup, smirking slightly as Harry bristled and struggled against his bonds. Henry had immediately decided that resisting would be futile and might enrage their ‘host’.

“A Slytherin and a Gryffindor, through and through,” he murmured, one long white finger caressing the delicate china of his cup. “Well, I won’t waste time with pleasantries, since you appear to be a bit tied up. You both probably have an inkling why I requested you, so I’ll fulfill any lingering curiosity before I release you. One of you is my horcrux. And because of this, I suddenly find myself more than a little reluctant to kill you. Added to this is the nature of your own soul bond, which Severus has informed me of. So, while I could kill one of you to get you out of the way, that would be counter-productive to my own goal of self-preservation. After all, killing one of you will kill both of you. So.” He settled his cup back on the saucer with a soft click and elegantly placed them back on the table. “Which of you is it?”

The twins remained stubbornly silent, and the Dark Lord sighed. “Very well.” He summoned up all of the hatred and anger he could manage and watched the two boys closely to see who reacted. Henry tried to restrain his urge to wince, but could not hide the slight pinching of his eyes as his scar twinged painfully.

“Ah, the elder twin, as I thought,” Tom said with satisfaction. “You _were_ my true target that night so long ago, after all. Excellent.” 

He stood and pulled a bone-white wand from his robes. It was almost abnormally long, at least thirteen inches, and thin as a whisper. The grip had been covered by a hollowed out bone that exactly matched the color of the wood. The tip was pressed to Henry’s cheek, on the side opposite that scar that now screamed with pain. Harry began to feel the pain across their bond and watched with trepidation as the Dark Lord leered down at his brother. What was he doing?

“ _Morsmordre_ ,” Voldemort murmured, almost gently. But the pain that radiated from his wand tip across Henry’s skin was nearly unbearable as it reacted with the pain from the scar on the opposite side. His entire head throbbed with the pain, and he could not hold back a sharp scream as the feelings peaked and then began to fade away.

Beside him, Harry was whimpering as he felt the echoes of the pain travel across their bond. Voldemort leaned down to study the younger twins’ face and smirked in satisfaction. “Excellent,” he said again, to himself.

As the Dark Lord backed away, Snape stood and studied the twins himself. He also smirked.

“You may return them to that old fool now, Severus,” Tom said, waving his hand carelessly in their direction before he walked out of the room through a door in the back wall.

The ropes disappeared and Harry jumped up to hug his brother, studying his face with true horror on his own features. On Henry’s right cheek was the black pitted mark of a skull and snake, the symbol of Voldemort’s followers. Henry looked up at him in shock and touched Harry’s left cheek. A faint outline of the same mark was there, red now as though it were newly healed, and raised and white like the scar on the opposite side of his face.

Snape escorted them, unresisting, back to the foyer and apparated them back in front of the Hog’s Head. “Have fun at Hogwarts next year.” He smirked, and then disappeared with a sharp pop.

Inside the Hog’s Head, the Headmaster rushed forward to ensure that they were all right and gasped as he saw their faces. “No…” he whispered.

Abe came over to check on them and inhaled sharply as he saw the Dark Marks. “Merlin…” he breathed.

Something stung the newly made mark on Henry’s cheek and he realized belatedly that he was crying. That was his last thought before darkness claimed him for the rest of the night.

-o-0-o-


	20. Marked

Harry awoke to find his brother curled tightly against his chest. The newly created Dark Mark stood out like a blackened brand in his skin, though the healing ointment Abe had provided the night before had healed it. 

Gently, he extracted his limbs from the tangle and crawled out of the bed. Abe had reluctantly allowed the Headmaster to stay in one of the inn rooms the night before and Harry had been in too much shock after Henry fainted to tell him much of anything about what had happened at the meeting. A quick glance at the clock showed that Abe would be serving breakfast right about now, so he changed into some clean clothes, washed his face and teeth in the bathroom, and trotted downstairs. Sure enough, there was Dumbledore sitting at the bar and nibbling slowly on a piece of toast while he conversed quietly with his brother.

He sat next to the old man and gratefully accepted the bowl of porridge that Abe handed him. After a liberal dollop of honey, some cream, and some cinnamon, he stirred the bowl briskly and asked the Headmaster, “Would you like to know what happened now?”

Dumbledore glanced at Abe and then back at the boy sitting beside him in an unspoken question.

“It’s all right, Abe knows where we went anyway.” Harry took a bite of his porridge to check the taste and added some more cinnamon. “Snape came for us, we sat down to talk to the Dark Lord and were immediately tied up, Voldemort asked which one of us had the connection to him and then found out it was Henry. He marked him and then Snape brought us back.”

The Headmaster’s eyebrows had risen further and further into his hairline with each comment. “He didn’t talk to you at all? Tell you all about how clever his plan was, or why he was going to mark Henry?”

Harry shook his head in confusion. Was that supposed to be typical behavior for Dark Lords?

“Strange—I have always known Tom to be quite long-winded during any exchange with an enemy. He believes he is infallible and keeps talking and giving away his plan as a result. It’s his main weakness, in fact.”

“Well, he marked Henry, didn’t he?” Harry pointed out. Both of the men looked at him in confusion and Harry sighed. “He only marks his followers, yeah? But only on their arms. So marking Henry on the face like that is showing anyone who sees him that he belongs to the Dark Lord, and me through him.” He touched the new scar on his face to drive home his point. “As far as Voldemort is concerned, we are no longer a threat.”

“I don’t know about that. He might feel that there is little to fear from you if he claims you instead of fighting against you, but he is not fool enough to forget that you both have every reason to hate him,” Dumbledore said.

Harry shrugged. It made little difference.

“I am…unsure how to proceed,” the Headmaster admitted. “With such a visible mark, I fear what the rest of the school population will do to you next year.”

“Is the school even going to be reopened?” Abe asked, reminding them that he was there still. “I mean, all that business with a giant snake was never resolved.”

Dumbledore sighed heavily, fiddling with the bits of crust left on his plate. “As of yet, the Ministry declared, and the Board of Governors agree, that the school cannot be reopened until the snake is found and destroyed.”

Harry swallowed a bite of his breakfast and said, “Henry and I can let you into the Chamber. There’s a second entrance that goes somewhere outside the castle, and the one we know how to get to will require us to go with them to a certain point—there’s a second seal inside that requires parseltongue to open.”

“Perhaps I will give them that option, then,” the professor said thankfully. He stood with a small groan and smoothed his robes down as he had the last time they met over a meal. “I will go and contact them now, in fact.”

“Professor!” Harry said, stopping him before he got more than a couple of feet. “The prophecy…I was wondering…”

“Yes?” Dumbledore asked, glancing around the room to reassure himself that there was no one else there.

“Who did you hear it from? Are you sure it’s real?”

“Oh yes, it is quite real. I heard it myself, in fact, from the Divination teacher at the school. Her name is Sybill Trelawney.”

“Are prophecies common, then?”

“No…well, perhaps if you saw the room full of them in the Ministry you would think differently. But they only happen once ever decade or so, and there are very few true seers left in the world.” He peered over his half-moon glasses at the boy. “Is that all?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you.” Harry smiled as the Headmaster left and then returned to his breakfast. A soft clattering on the stairs alerted he and Abe to the fact that Henry was awake.

His brother entered, covered from head to toe in his cloak, the hood already pulled up to hide his face.

“What’s that get-up for?” Harry asked.

Henry looked at him, a slightly fearful look in his eyes. “To hide my face. I wouldn’t want to give Abe a bad reputation.”

Abe laughed, trying to quell the boy’s fear. “Already got one! Don’t worry about it, lad. Here, eat up.” He pushed another bowl of porridge into the boy’s hands and turned to disappear into the kitchen. The sound of clinking dishes soon wafted out to them.

“Hen?” Harry asked hesitantly, seeing that his brother was still staring into the bowl as though he had never seen porridge in his life.

Glassy green eyes looked up at him with no curiosity. It was just a blank stare—completely empty and lifeless.

Harry quickly pulled his brother into a hug after gently removing the bowl that was being held with an iron grip. “Shh…it’s okay,” he murmured, beginning to rock gently from side to side as the physical closeness made the feelings coming through their bond easier to sense. He sent wave after wave of love to his brother to combat the despair and hopelessness he was feeling. Henry slowly put his hands around Harry’s waist. “I’m here,” Harry whispered. “I’m here and I’ll never leave you.” 

That seemed to be the key that was missing. Harry was suddenly flooded with every nuance of emotion Henry was feeling. Hurt led to hate led to anger led to fear led to worry—on and on as the wall between them crumbled into nothing. Even as he sorted through the mess of emotions, Harry became conscious of the heart-rending sobs that Henry was making into his shoulder now. His brother who _never_ cried, who was the strong one, who always took care of Harry when _he_ was upset and who always put his own emotions to the side. All this, because of Voldemort and Snape and the Dark Mark that was now branded into his face.

Deep, deep beneath the seething turmoil was another feeling that was quickly growing in intensity. A self-loathing that Harry could not even imagine feeling and with it a desire to end their suffering before it escalated into unknown proportions due to the mark they both now bore.

“NO!” Harry cried, shaking his brother even as he still held him and disrupting the gentle rocking he had continued with. “No,” he said firmly, pulling Henry’s chin up with one hand. “I won’t let you.”

Henry’s eyes streamed tears and his face was red and puffy from crying. Even now he was trying to stifle his sobs, but they only broke free more broken and wretched than before. Shaking his head, he tried to deny that any kind of future might exist for them now. What was there? How could anyone see past the Dark Mark and remain close to them now? Even Ron, even Hermione, couldn’t possibly want to be near them lest they be tainted with the same hatred and fear that every other person would feel when they saw Henry’s face.

“No,” Harry murmured, gently stroking his twin’s face. “You still have me, Hen. I don’t care about that mark, I just care about you. Please don’t leave me, you know I cannot live without you.”

Henry shook his head and pulled back a little to beat his fists on Harry’s chest. “Why?” he sobbed.

There were a thousand questions in that one word, but Harry focused on the one he could answer. “Because I love you.” And he leaned forward and took Henry’s face in both of his hands and brushed his lips ever so gently across the other boy’s. It was warm and soft and left a tingling trail that traveled straight into the core of him and pushed back all of Henry’s harsh feelings and left only that love and that warmth for him to cling to.

It lasted merely seconds before Henry pulled away as though burned. His hand came up to touch his lips and he was so surprised and startled by his own reaction that he forgot to cry.

A throat cleared from somewhere behind the bar and the twins’ heads snapped up to stare at the somewhat embarrassed face of Abe. “Perhaps you should take this upstairs?” he suggested.

Henry immediately stood, his breakfast untouched and forgotten, and ran up the stairs and into their room, slamming the door and locking it behind him. Harry followed at a slower pace and tried to enter the room, somewhat surprised to find it locked.

“Hen?” he asked.

“Just leave me alone for a while, Har,” Henry’s muffled voice said tiredly.

Frowning, Harry turned to consider the small sitting room that lay outside of their bedroom. A defense book he had been reading rested on the arm of the couch and he sat, opening it to the place he had left off. For a long time he stared at it, occasionally turning the page as his eyes finished passing over each sentence, but he was not actually reading a single word. It was an hour into this that he realized that it was their birthday.

-o-0-o-

Henry sat on the edge of the bed, his cloak discarded on the blankets beside him. The feelings coursing through him now were worse, far worse, than the anger and despair that had haunted him the moment he awoke. The love was the hardest to face—he could still _feel_ the warm embrace of his brother’s feelings, and even worse was that he, at least, had no illusions about that affection being _brotherly_. Harry loved him. Well and truly _loved him_ , with all of the attraction, desire, and need inherent in that emotion. And he was also utterly innocent of that fact.

But Henry knew; could _feel_ it. Because it was the same way he felt whenever he thought of the Mirror of Erised. The same way he felt when he thought of that chaste kiss downstairs—just a fleet brushing of the lips before he had ended it. And it had felt _right_.

And it was so very, very _wrong_.

He slowly fell back onto the bed, his legs dangling over the edge, and he threw an arm over his face to block out the early morning sunlight streaming through the window behind him. What in the name of Merlin had possessed Harry to do such a thing? This changed everything between them. Most alarming was that something had changed about their bond, now. With the barest of efforts, he could now reach out and sense not only his brother’s feelings, but also the lowest murmur of his very thoughts. He knew without trying that his brother was confused and worried about him, and thinking about asking Abe to magic the door open the longer Henry stayed holed up inside.

It took a monumental effort to block him out, mostly because the idea of having to do so was completely new. Before this, the bond had blocked out everything unless one of them was upset or suffering from other especially strong emotions. He envisioned a sturdy brick wall between them and sighed as he felt the last vestiges of Harry’s emotions fade away.

But perhaps this didn’t change _everything_. Harry was still ignorant of his own feelings, and hopefully had no idea that Henry felt the same way. If he could keep him blocked out, keep that connection closed, and find some way of displacing his own or Harry’s feelings onto someone else, then the situation might be salvaged. Even better if both of them found a significant other to shed these terrible feelings that were growing between them. 

Harry would subconsciously resist doing just that, he knew. So it was up to Henry to set up his brother with someone suitable and then let nature take its course. 

And then, of course, the other half of the problem reared its ugly head. The Mark both of them now bore would preclude the chances of finding suitable matches in the coming school year. If there even _was_ a school year. There was, as yet, no sign that the Board of Governors would allow the school to reopen until they had proof that the basilisk was gone for good. He wondered what Dumbledore was going to do about that. No one he knew had even received letters detailing the needed school supplies for the coming year.

Henry tentatively reached up a hand and fingered the Mark. It was smoother than he expected, sort of like a tattoo but pitted into the skin instead of slightly raising it. Harry’s Mark was much closer in appearance to a scar and much less noticeable. Perhaps there was some way of removing it, but he sincerely doubted anyone would find out if there was. If Voldemort had a means to remove the Dark Mark, then any operatives he put into undercover positions would have been better served to have the Mark either removed or placed somewhere less obvious than their left arms. Faced with that observation, he decided to squash any hope that the Mark could be gotten rid of short of killing the man responsible for the magic.

And he was the one who was supposed to do that, apparently. _That_ was a bit of news that had been disturbing him ever since his brother’s brilliant explanation of his theory behind the horcruxes and the night they both were attacked. The prophecy rang through his head, as though the seer who had spoken it were standing in the same room and whispering it in his ear:

_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches, born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies. And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal and he will have power the Dark Lord knows not. And either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies._

He sat up as he had a sudden and violent realization. The Dark Lord _will mark him as his equal_! But now that he bore the Dark Mark, he was anything _but_ Voldemort’s equal. He was at best a servant and at worst a prized piece of property. Had Snape somehow circumvented Dumbledore’s Oath and told the entire prophecy to the Dark Lord? Is that why he had been Marked in this way for no obvious reason?

And if that was the case, then was the prophecy now broken? Or had it turned to someone else as a means to completion?

Launching himself from the bed, Henry pulled out ink and parchment and scribbled a quick note to Dumbledore:

_Headmaster,_

_I need to speak to you urgently._

_Henry Potter_

He crooned softly to Hedwig, who was napping, and she glared at him briefly before clacking her beak and taking the short missive and gliding out of the window he opened for her.

Turning to the closed and locked door, he took a deep breath and strode across the room to face his brother. It was time to lay their plans for the future.

-o-0-o-

Harry startled to his feet as he heard the bedroom door unlock and stared for several long moments at his brother before he blurted, “I didn’t mean anything by it, it just…happened…”

Henry visibly gathered himself. “Never mind that, Harry. I just sent a letter to Dumbledore telling him we need to talk. I think I might have figured out why Voldemort did this.” He pointed to the Mark on his face as explanation.

Harry was sure his relief was nearly palpable, but was too glad that his brother seemed to have gotten over the incident downstairs to care. “Why, then?”

But Henry shook his head. “Not here. I know we’re staying under Abe’s protection and all, but I haven’t forgotten that little conversation he was holding with Snape last summer. It’s possible that he’s a Dark supporter, especially given the nature of most of his customers.”

Harry opened his mouth to argue, but his brother cut him off.

“I like him too, Harry. But we don’t know what his motives are. I’d _like_ to think that it’s simply safer for him to support the Dark, but he could just as easily be a true sympathizer to their cause. Especially if he’s been that way since the first war when Voldemort was more sane.”

Nibbling his lip, Harry refrained from pointing out that Dumbledore obviously trusted his brother to protect them. Despite the restoration of their relationship with the Headmaster, neither of them felt as though they should give him their blind faith as so many others in the wizarding world had. Finally, he nodded and Henry answered him with a smile of satisfaction.

“Good. Let’s walk up to the castle and see if we can meet Dumbledore on the way here or as he’s leaving.”

Harry bit his lip again. “But…” he hesitated to point out the obvious flaw in this plan.

Henry cocked his head in inquiry.

Inhaling slowly, Harry pointed to his own cheek where the white scar of his Dark Mark was barely visible.

“Damn and blast,” Henry cursed. “I forgot already. Yours is hardly noticeable, so I tend to forget that I have one too.” With a sigh he sat down on the arm of the couch and tried to think of a solution. “I wonder if a glamour would hide it?”

“We could ask Abe to try…” Harry said unsurely.

“Or we could just wait here for Dumbledore,” Henry admitted reluctantly. “I know people will find out about the Mark eventually, but I don’t exactly want to rush towards all of that prejudice and hate with open arms.”

Harry sat beside him on the couch with his own sigh. “I know. Word will probably get out if the Ministry allows us to guide a team into the Chamber to kill the basilisk anyway, though.”

“What’s this?” Henry asked, having not been there for the conversation with Dumbledore that morning.

“Oh, the Headmaster was here this morning and I told him they’d have to have our help to get into the Chamber anyway. They will probably take us up on the offer, too, otherwise no one will be able to return to school next year.”

“And the new term is fast approaching,” Henry observed.

A loud popping noise from downstairs was followed by Abe yelling, “By all the nine circles of Hell, Albus! Never _apparate_ directly into my pub EVER AGAIN!”

“I’m sorry, Aberforth, but I received an urgent missive from Henry and I was worried that the Dark Lord might be involved. If you will excuse me?”

Moments later a pair of booted feet clambered quickly up the old wooden stairs and a rather flustered looking Albus Dumbledore appeared in the living room.

“You must have run all the way from the school to the edge of the wards to get here this fast,” Henry said, grinning.

Puffing a bit, the Headmaster nodded instead of answering and took a seat in one of the comfortable armchairs across from the twins. “I’m glad…to see…that you’re…unhurt,” he gasped as he caught his breath.

“For now, anyway,” Henry answered. He heard a faint creak on the stairs and narrowed his eyes in that direction. “Would you ward the room, Professor? What I have to tell you is rather sensitive information.”

Dumbledore nodded his agreement and waved his knobby old wand through the air several times before stowing it in his sleeve again. “Now, what is so urgent that I had to run here at full speed?” he asked, a twinkle in his eyes.

“It’s about the prophecy,” Henry said. He took a few moments to rearrange his thoughts and what he needed to say before speaking. “There is one line that states “the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal”, correct?”

The Headmaster nodded in confusion. “That is why I knew it was one of you, because of the scars on your faces.”

“Yes, but the Dark Lord just marked us again.” Henry cupped his hand over the Dark Mark marring his face. “And this mark makes us, or me if Harry’s theory is correct, _anything but_ the Dark Lord’s equal.”

Dumbledore paled dramatically. “Ah. I must admit that hadn’t yet occurred to me.”

Henry nodded. “I think that he has somehow learned the prophecy, either from Snape or otherwise, and that is why he Marked us. My real question, though, is whether this completely breaks the prophecy or if it will now latch onto someone else to fulfill it?”

The old man remained silent for several minutes, the pregnant pause filled with that unanswered question as Henry dared to hope.

Finally Dumbledore said, “Prophecies cannot be broken once they are set into motion. And marking both of you as children started this one down its current path. But, as you say, it would seem that Voldemort has found a way to take you out of the equation. It is possible that _he_ thinks marking you like this will end the prophecy and therefore end the chance that he will be defeated. But I am afraid that is not the case. And, unfortunately, I cannot begin to tell you how the prophecy will carry out now that you are not a part of it.” He laced his fingers together and rested his elbows on the arms of his chair, peering over his knuckles at them with a somewhat disappointed gaze. “It appears that everything I have been doing up until now to help you face this task has been for naught. Ironic, considering how hard I tried to give you both a normal childhood and now you can actually live it—at least as well as you can given the Dark Mark on your faces.”

Henry reeled back slightly. “Normal? You think our childhood has been _normal_? It was you who placed us with the Dursleys in the first place, and you let us face the trials for the Philosopher’s Stone alone. I even think you would have done the same with the Chamber, had we not all learned our lesson the year before.” He slid down off the arm of the couch where he had been sitting, leaning over the small coffee table that separated the Headmaster from them. “And now…now you’re just going to _discard us_ because we aren’t the ones who will fulfill the prophecy? You make it sound like we have to deal with these marks on our own while you try to figure out who _will_ complete your thrice-damned predictions!”

Dumbledore gave them both a pained look and spread his hands helplessly. “There is nothing I can do. The Dark Mark cannot be removed, it cannot be hidden, and no matter what I tell the school next year you _will_ be ostracized. What would you have me do?”

“Train us! Help us at least learn to protect ourselves from the other students if we need to, and against Voldemort if it comes to that. I am under no illusions, Professor. He _will_ call one or both of us to him, and he _will_ either treat us as unwilling followers or as the property he has now made us. So at least help us to survive!”

But the Headmaster was already shaking his head. “You’re too young to join the Light, my boys.” He sighed and visibly prepared himself to share a secret, “I am the leader of an organization known as the Order of the Phoenix. We banded together in the first war to fight the Dark Lord, and we are reassembling the remaining members even as we speak. But _no one_ can join until they come of age at seventeen.”

“Then don’t let us join! Just train us!” Harry cried, jumping to his own feet as he realized that the Headmaster really had no intention of helping them with this.

The old man closed pained blue eyes. “I cannot. You are a weapon in Tom’s hands now. Bad enough the things he will probably force you to learn. If I teach you _anything_ , how am I supposed to know that he won’t place the Imperious Curse on you and use you to attack the students where he cannot reach them? How am I to know that he will not use you to get to me, or to Ministry officials who have relatives and children at Hogwarts? I’m of half a mind to simply expel you both to protect the rest of the castle. As you are now, you are dangerous—whether you choose to be or not.”

Harry stared at the Headmaster in shock and felt his knees give out so that he fell back into his seat with a thump. “But…”

Dumbledore shook his head once more and stood, gazing at them with a reluctant and hurt expression. “I know what I am saying is harsh, but it is my duty to protect the school from the Dark Lord, and that is what I am going to do. You will be allowed to remain as long as Voldemort does not use you to attack anyone inside the school. If I catch you doing anything of that nature, you _will have to be_ expelled.”

“For the Greater Good, right Professor?” Henry asked coldly.

The Headmaster, who had turned away and taken several steps towards the door stiffened and paused in mid-stride. “Goodbye, boys. I will notify you when the Ministry has need of your services to enter the Chamber.”

And then he was gone, and his wards with him. They heard him say a brisk goodbye to Abe downstairs and then the sound of the pub door opening and closing behind him.

“Now what?” Harry asked dully.

“Now, we find our own side in this war,” Henry muttered. “I just wish I knew how.”

That thought was interrupted a moment later. Henry’s head snapped up as he felt a vague stirring of premonition before the pain erupted through the mark on his cheek, multiplied a thousand-fold by the horcrux scar on the other side. It hurt so much for the first few moments that he couldn’t even scream—couldn’t get his vocal cords to do anything more than clench in agony—and then a wail of pure suffering erupted from somewhere inside of him, and he was too far gone to even recognize the voice as his own.

Merciful blackness took him within a few minutes, but Harry, screaming beside him at both the real and reflected pain, was not so lucky.

And then suddenly Henry was not there in the Hog’s Head anymore, but standing alone and invisible beside the Dark Lord as he looked over a room full of black-robed and white-masked individuals, Severus Snape standing a little behind and to the right of his throne-like chair.

-o-0-o-

Voldemort surveyed his followers with blood-red eyes, some vestige of a smile lurking at the corners of his mouth as they fell to their knees one by one as they saw that he had truly returned.

Standing, he gathered his power about him like the mantle of a king, and passed his inhuman eyes across the gathering. He made sure to rest his eyes on each and every person there so that when they left him, each would feel as though he had met and held their gaze, and only theirs. Let each man think he was the favored one, let each man know that just by being here, _they_ were more loyal than any other.

Only when he had passed his eyes over them all did Voldemort speak. “Welcome, Death Eaters. Eleven years…eleven years since we last met. Yet you answer my call as though it were yesterday.” He turned sideways to the crowd of followers and paced slowly to one side of the throne and back, drawing eyes as he did so to Snape standing in the favored position beside the ornate chair. “Yet I know why you have returned to me. Not out of loyalty, but fear!”

A shiver raced through the crowd, his calm tone doing more to induce terror than if he had been screaming his anger at them.

Voldemort smiled at their terror—though much of his sanity had been returned to him, he still enjoyed this play of power; the use of emotion to rule men who might otherwise have considered him weak and easy to overthrow. “Yesss, I know,” he whispered, just loud enough for them to hear. “I know your fear…” he made a soft hissing sound that darted his tongue into the air, almost but not quite parseltongue. “I can tassste it.”

One man standing close to the slightly raised dais threw himself to the ground and cried out, “Forgive me! Forgive all of us, Master!”

“ _Crucio_!” Voldemort screamed, and relished the man’s agony for several long moments before he ended the curse. “Cowards, all of you! Too afraid to seek me out all these long years, too afraid of losing yourselves when you have pledged your eternal loyalty to _me_ and me alone!”

He shot the pain curse randomly into the crowd a few more times and let the screams die down to whimpers before he spoke again, his tone still barely above a whisper. “You ask for forgiveness? I do not forgive. I do not forget. Eleven long years of suffering…I want eleven years of repayment before I forgive any of you! But Severus…my _dear_ Severus has already begun to repay that debt that you owe me.” Voldemort turned to his lover and walked a slow circle around him, allowing one hand to rise and stroke one side of his face as he turned. “He not only returned me to my body, he restored my mind. Towards the end of my first reign, I took my measures against death _too_ far, and I fear that some of my sanity was lost to me. But no longer! And for that…he will be rewarded.”

Snape fell to his knees as they had orchestrated this, and gazed devotedly into the Dark Lord’s eyes. “I live to serve you, my Lord.”

“Rise!” Voldemort cried, standing before the throne so that all in the room could see the dark man beside him, “No longer shall you be forced to kneel, Ssseverusss! Such devotion, even in the face of my spirit’s anger, shall be rewarded the highest honor I can grant. You will be my right hand, higher in rank than any other Death Eater and master of them all. Give me your left arm!”

Snape unbuttoned the sleeve of both his frock coat and white undershirt with no hesitation and bared his Dark Mark to Voldemort’s wand. 

“ _Regis Morsmordre_!” Voldemort cried, knowing that none of the Death Eaters had ever heard such a spell before. 

Snape visibly gritted his teeth against the pain, and then the tip of the wand was removed and the pain with it. He studied the mark in open surprise, and then Voldemort gripped his arm and raised it into the air so that his followers could see the difference. There, perched on top of the skull on Snape’s old Dark Mark, was a crown that paid a passing resemblance to the muggle Queen’s. It was as black as the rest of the Mark and appeared to be made of bones.

“Kneel, Death Eaters!” Voldemort cried ecstatically, “And greet your new Lord!”

As one, the congregation fell to the hard stone floor of the room and gazed upon Snape’s arm in shock. Voldemort cackled his laughter and Snape smiled triumphantly at his side.

Invisible beside the throne, Henry watched what was happening with horror and was relieved as well as frustrated when the vision began to fade away now that the Dark Lord’s anger and exultation had died down.

He awoke in his bed above the pub with Harry beside him and Abe sitting worriedly in the chair beside them.

“What happened?” the auburn haired man asked as soon as he realized Henry had come to.

“A gathering,” Henry whispered, “and Snape’s promotion.”

-o-0-o-


	21. Return to the Chamber of Secrets

The twins were woken the next morning by raised voices down in the pub. Pounding footsteps quickly followed, and they recognized the speakers with some surprise.

“Severus! Don’t blame this on them! Albus would have figured things out on his own eventually.”

“But not so soon,” their former professor growled darkly. “It was essential to our plans to be within Hogwarts this year, and now we will have to make new arrangements.”

The door to their room was thrown open, and they scrambled out of bed as Snape glared at them, his dark ebony wand held in a deceptively light grip.

Time seemed to pause for a moment as they all stared at one another, and then the wand was raised and leveled at them, as Snape cried, “ _Crucio_!” He held the curse for ten seconds, then twenty, then thirty—at last Abe couldn’t stand to hear their screams any more and lowered Snape’s wand forcibly to his side.

“Enough!” Abe roared, “You have punished them, now leave them be.”

The twins clutched at each other and stared up at Snape from where they lay, limp and exhausted, on the floor.

The dark-haired man calmly pulled the chair away from the small table in the room and sat, crossing his legs and staring at them. “Leave us,” he ordered Abe.

“But…”

“Now.”

With a sigh, the bartender gave an apologetic glance at the twins and then left the room, closing the door behind him.

“So he is a supporter,” Henry croaked softly.

Snape sneered. “You brats have cost me my job, and a position of much influence to boot. The Dark Lord has decided to use you where I would have sufficed. You may consider his orders further punishment for your transgressions.”

Harry sighed and shakily pulled himself up into a sitting position, leaning heavily on the edge of the bed. “Dumbledore will expel us if the Dark Lord uses us inside the school.”

Snape’s lips thinned. “ _That_ is why you must not get caught. My master is not foolish enough to order either of you to murder or harm the students or the old fool. What he wanted me to do is far simpler, and something that you will actually have an easier time doing than even I.”

Harry helped his brother to sit up as well. “And what is that?” he asked.

The man smiled nastily at them. “Recruit the students to his cause. I have been molding the Slytherins for years—we have already won the majority of them—but the other houses are still strongly under Dumbledore’s thumb. You will work on them, wear them down, and turn them to the Dark Lord.”

“And if we don’t?” Henry asked defiantly.

“ _Crucio_ ,” Snape answered calmly.

When the curse was released again, Harry raised his chin defiantly at the Potions Master. “No matter how much you torture us, we won’t do as you ask.”

“Then I will have to try something else, won’t I?” Snape decided. “ _Imperio_.”

Harry suddenly felt all of his worries fly out the window. The thin early morning light coming through the window into their room was especially pretty this morning. A little voice whispered in his ear, and he likened it to a bird, telling him to crawl forward and lick the shoes of the dark-haired man sitting in front of him.

 _Why not?_ he thought. But his own mind answered him. _I don’t really feel like licking shoes today. Who does he think he is, anyway?_

With a frown, Harry put one hand forward, preparing to crawl, but the voice held him back. _Harry Potter doesn’t lick_ anyone’s _shoes._

“Lick them yourself, Snape,” Harry snapped, breaking the spell and settling back into his seated position against the side of the bed.

The man’s eyes widened in disbelief, before he closed them and shook his head. “Unbelievable,” he muttered. “Only you could break the Imperious Curse at the age of thirteen, Mr. Potter.” He sighed and stood. “I will have to discuss your resistance with the Dark Lord, you realize. He will not…be pleased.”

Henry nodded silently, knowing that their days may be numbered or that they would soon be called to ‘visit’ Voldemort.

“Sir?” Harry asked as Snape turned to leave.

He paused, and half-turned to raise an eyebrow at them.

“You said that we could ask our questions when we had had time to think about things. When are you going to allow us to do so?”

“I am surprised you still have questions, considering how free Albus recently seems to be with information. Abe told us that you know of the prophecy. Albus has also clearly revealed his manipulations to you, if he has admitted to being prepared to expel you should the Dark Lord use you within the school. What else could you want to ask of me?”

The twins exchanged a glance, and Henry spoke. “You said that during the first war, Voldemort was a good leader, almost sane enough to actually follow his ideals to reach a set goal. But then he made too many horcruxes, and lost his sanity. But what was he fighting for? What made you follow him, and bring him back to let him try again?”

“Ah.” Snape spun fully towards them elegantly and resumed his seat in the chair. “In the first war, his goals were simple. He began to gain followers, purebloods and even some halfbloods, so that he could make a bid for the Ministry. Tom wasn’t satisfied by the thought of rising from within the Ministry ranks to become Minister of Magic—he took the idea of campaigning for the position from the Muggles he grew up with, and gained a large amount of support in the process. There was no killing, no fighting during this period. It was purely a political war.”

“But then, why did he make the horcruxes?” Harry asked.

“Tom created his first horcrux, the diary, when he was sixteen. I am not entirely sure why, but he has always been obsessed with living forever. There is something very tangible and alarming that he fears from death. I do not know what, or why. But losing half of his soul was not enough for him to go completely mad. His campaign reached its peak, and then out of the blue came Albus Dumbledore and his Order of the Phoenix, to counter Tom and his followers, who were not yet known as Death Eaters. With one speech, Albus undermined the years of hard work that Tom had put into his political career. He told the world that Tom was a deranged, power-hungry madman, bent on destroying the wizarding world once he became Minister. This speech is also where the tales of his hatred of Muggles and muggleborns came from. Part of Tom’s campaign was for the complete sealing off of the magical world. No marriage would be allowed with muggles, nor would muggleborns be allowed to remain with non-magical parents. He lobbied repeatedly with the Wizengamot for the creation of an orphanage for wizarding children, so that those like himself would never be persecuted for being what they are.”

“It’s just like Ariana said,” Harry whispered, “Dumbledore is responsible for creating Voldemort.”

“Yes,” Snape nodded sadly. “They fought a wizard’s duel, Tom seeking to refute Dumbledore’s claims. Tom lost. Badly. It was immediately after this that he began to travel the world and created more horcruxes, and lost more of his sanity. He returned a few years later to apply for the DADA position at Hogwarts, but of course Albus refused him. So he gathered his followers once more, and declared war on the Ministry and Dumbledore. The rest you should have gleaned from conversations with others over the past several years.”

“So what will he do now that he has returned and is more sane?” Henry asked scathingly, not buying the story completely. “He certainly hasn’t gone back to seeking political power, nor using his followers to find him support in the Ministry. He’s going to continue his little war with Dumbledore, while the Ministry and the rest of the wizarding world gets caught in between and suffers for it.”

“Indeed,” Snape said softly. “I wish I could tell you differently. I joined him during the first war, after he had lost most of his sanity. But I listened to the older followers, and I learned of what Tom Riddle had once been. That is the reason I brought him back—in the hope that his ideals might be upheld once more. I may yet be proven wrong.”

With that, he stood and calmly stalked from the room, leaving two thoughtful boys behind him.

***

The Dark Lord held two more meetings over the next few weeks, but did not call the boys to punish or kill them. They began to behave in a slightly standoffish manner towards Abe, knowing now that they truly couldn’t trust him with their secrets no matter how kind and helpful he might seem. July bled into August, still with no word from the school about whether the twins would be requested to lead a team into the Chamber. The Daily Prophet now posted nearly daily inquiries into the status of the school, and everyone was wondering if school would happen at all.

But then, early in the afternoon a week before school should have started, a red-robed auror arrived at the Hog’s Head to “escort” Messirs Potter to the school to lead the Ministry officials to the Chamber and open any doors that might require parseltongue.

The man was a lower level auror, so when he saw the Dark Mark branded into Henry’s face and the matching scar on Harry’s, he panicked and placed them both under magical bindings before frog-marching them up to the castle.

A very tall woman in the same red robes, this time with a thick band of black around the collar, sleeves, and hem, watched them approach and immediately berated the Auror in question as he led the twins to the group.

“Savage!” she cried, adjusting a monocle in her left eye. “What is the meaning of this? I told you to escort them, not bind them and bring them under wand like prisoners!”

Savage grimaced and motioned them forward with his wand so that this woman, who was clearly in charge, could see the Mark on their faces.

“Dear Merlin…” she breathed, and the monocle fell down on its chain as her face relaxed too much to hold it in place.

The other aurors chose that moment to gather round and there were many shocked faces and many filled with fear, but a few held anger and betrayal.

One man stepped forward belligerently and pointed at them in accusation, “But you’re supposed to be the Boys Who Lived! The Chosen Ones who will fight He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named! How could you join that murdering traitor? How did you even get the Mark?”

“It wasn’t by choice, I can assure you,” Henry said drily.

“Not helping, Hen!” Harry hissed out of the corner of his mouth.

Dumbledore had, of course, been attempting to spread word that the Dark Lord had returned, but not many had believed him, least of all the Ministry. The woman in charge looked at them with speculation, and held up a hand for silence when the man took breath for another rush of blame.

“Perhaps we should actually _hear_ how this happened before we go pointing any fingers, shall we?” It was phrased like a question but was unmistakably an order. “Release them at once, Savage. They’re children, not monsters.”

There was a general muttering of denial behind her, but one piercing glance over her shoulder shut them all up.

Turning back to the twins, she replaced her monocle in her left eye and leaned a little closer to study the marks in more detail. “Now,” she said with satisfaction, “my name is Amelia Bones, and I am the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Perhaps you would relate the tale of how this happened to you.”

Harry sighed. “As if you’ll believe us.”

“Try me,” Amelia said drily.

His lips thinned and he raised his chin a little bit at the challenge. Looking her squarely in the eye the entire time he spoke, he said, “First Severus Snape collected us from the Hog’s Head and _apparated_ us to Malfoy Manor where we met Voldemort. He wanted to know which one of us he had originally attacked when we were children, and figured out that it was Henry. Then he gave Henry the Dark Mark on his face, and I received an echo of it through our bond. Snape returned us to the Hog’s Head and now we have screaming fits every time Voldemort holds a Death Eater meeting. Oh, and dare I mention that because we have been marked like this we are no longer the so-called ‘Chosen Ones'?”

He took entirely too much enjoyment out of watching them flinch every time he said the Dark Lord’s name. Let them. When they truly believed that he had returned, perhaps they would grow spines instead of cowering away as they did now.

A stunned silence met his little speech, and Madam Bones herself appeared stunned.

“That’s ridiculous!” the same belligerent Auror exclaimed, but Amelia turned and shook her head at him.

“I believe, Proudfoot, that he was telling nothing but the unadulterated truth.”

“B-but that means…”

“That You-Know-Who has returned, just as Albus has been trying to tell everyone for these past several months. How can you deny the proof that is before your very eyes? Neither Harry nor Henry Potter was sporting a Dark Mark on their face before the end of the school year, you helped escort them from the school yourself. And now there it is, for all the world to see. Only You-Know-Who knows the spell for the Mark, so what other explanation is there?”

“One of the Death Eaters could have learned the spell and is trying to cause a panic by making everyone think You-Know-Who is back…?”

“That sounds like a question, Proudfoot,” Amelia said sternly. “And if you are that unsure of your answer, then even you, stubborn as you are being, believe that I am right.” She turned back to the twins. “So. I will deal with the details of You-Know-Who’s return later. Right now we have a job to do and a school to make safe. There is only one week until term begins and no one has even been able to buy their supplies. Please, Messirs Potter, do show us the way. Savage, Proudfoot, you will form an advance guard and use your mirrors to check that the hallways are clear before we pass.”

The two Aurors and the twins glowered at one another for a moment before Henry spoke. “The entrance is in the girl’s loo on the second floor.”

“The girl’s loo?” a tall black man asked incredulously.

“Yes,” Henry said, deadly serious.

“Oh.”

They made their way by taking the large double staircase at the back of the Great Hall and followed the long hall that led to the door to the girl’s bathroom.

“Hang on,” a young-looking witch with pink hair exclaimed, “we’re not going to _Myrtle’s_ bathroom, are we?”

“What do you think killed her fifty years ago?” Harry asked sarcastically. “Hagrid’s acromantula?”

Her jaw gaped open for a moment before snapping shut abruptly. For that was exactly what the Ministry had thought at the time, and the half-giant had been expelled for it.

The armed group swarmed into the bathroom, and Harry approached the sink that would reveal the entrance. “ _Open_ ,” he hissed, ignoring the sharp gasps from the assembled Aurors. Honestly, you’d think they would have been briefed to expect the snake language before coming here. After the various pieces of the sinks had separated and sunk down into the hole, he pulled Henry onto one of the plinths with him and directed the Aurors to do the same. When everyone was ready, he hissed, “ _Down_.” 

The pink-haired Auror squeaked as the plinth she was sharing with the tall black man started to move and almost lost her balance before he managed to catch her.

“Wotcher, Tonks,” he murmured.

“Thanks, Kingsley,” Tonks answered shakily, peering over the edge to view the black depths of the pipe as they descended.

At the bottom, everyone stepped off their plinth and out into the bone-strewn cavern beyond. Madam Bones had her monocle up to her eye once more and was eyeing the litter with a raised eyebrow.

“Any idea how big this snake is, boys?”

Henry shrugged. “We’ve never actually seen it, only heard it in the pipes of the school. Judging by the snakeskin in the next room, it’s barely big enough to squeeze through that pipe we just came down.”

She nodded as though she had been expecting this, though several of the Aurors began to look a bit pale. “No one really knows how long basilisks live, but if this snake was placed here by Salazar Slytherin as the stories say…it would be the oldest basilisk ever recorded, and therefore the largest.”

“If you don’t mind my asking,” Henry said respectfully, “How are you planning to fight it?”

From inside a bag carried by one of the Aurors, Madam Bones procured a rooster that had clearly been struck in mid crow by a _petrificus totalus_ spell. “This is our main line of attack. We will seek to blind the snake first, then use one of the roosters. Should that fail, we will attack. All of us have vials of phoenix tears should we be struck by the venom. You boys will remain outside the lock that Dumbledore told me of, and leave if the worst happens and our plans fail.”

The twins nodded seriously, and led the way past the snakeskin in the next room, which the Aurors studied fearfully, many of them gripping their wands in clammy hands.

They approached the lock and Henry motioned the Aurors forward to stand near the door. Madam Bones gave them some sort of signal and they visibly prepared for battle, tensing in preparation to attack the moment the door opened.

“This is it,” Henry murmured, then faced the door. “ _Open_.”

The twins dodged back as the ancient gears began to turn in the door, and stood to one side of the entrance where the basilisk’s killing gaze would not be able to reach them.

The doors parted, and the Aurors made to dash forward, only to stop with many gasps of surprise. Lying there with her face to the door was the basilisk herself, eyes closed in sleep. Their gasps caused her to stir, and everyone in the doorway quickly lowered their eyes, two of the senior Aurors stepping forward before the basilisk could truly awake and shooting several vicious cutting curses at the eyes. The great snake screamed in pain, fully awakening and rearing back to strike at her tormentors.

“It’s blinded!” the man named Kingsley told the others.

“Fall back!” Madam Bones ordered quickly, “It’s too big to come through this door.” The Aurors retreated through the door quickly and the snake’s attack crashed into the frame behind them. The head of their group removed a rooster from the bag and waved a quick _finite_ over it, letting the bird finished its frozen call.

Instantly, the great snake dropped dead on the floor, a large drop of venom falling from one fang to smoke on the floor.

Harry and Henry realized that they had hardly been daring to breathe, and took shuddering breaths as the Aurors stood down from their attack formation.

“Well, that was anticlimactic,” Madam Bones said with satisfaction, garnering a few chuckles from some of the veterans on the squad. “Let’s get out of here.”

The twins led them back to the sink and ordered the plinths to rise once more to the second floor bathroom in the school. The Aurors then escorted them out of the front doors and past the wards to the apparition point. Most of them disappeared with small pops, but Madam Bones turned to speak with them one more time.

“I thank you for your assistance today, boys. Your help was invaluable.”

“It was nothing, Madam,” Harry said sheepishly. “We just want to go back to school and see our friends again.”

She smiled down at them. “Yes, I can understand that. If you boys need anything, anything at all, you get in touch with me first. There are those in the Ministry who might try to undermine you, especially once word gets around about those Marks. And word like that will happen quickly knowing some of the juniors on my staff who saw you today.” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “I will see what I can do for you, but I only have control over one department.”

“But it is one of the most important,” Henry said wisely. “We have been claimed by the Dark, abandoned by the Light—and we belong to neither. Would you be willing to help us find our own way in the war to come?”

She considered them seriously, looking past their thirteen-year-old shells to the men that they would become within. With a nod, she promised, “I’ll be in touch.”

She backed away and disapparated, leaving the boys to walk slowly back to the Hog’s Head.

“Do you think she can help us?” Harry asked.

“It’s like I told Snape. The war is between Voldemort and Dumbledore. Aside from the one in the prophecy, no one can hope to intervene. Everyone else is going to get stuck in the middle and suffer for it. We both know Dumbledore is going to be searching for the new subject of the prophecy—maybe we can help the Ministry to protect people, to get everyone else out of the way of their fight.”

Harry nodded slowly as they walked into the pub. It sounded like their best bet, and this way they would be able to help people instead of fighting them.

“Messirs Potter,” a vacant voice floated to them from across the room. There, sitting in the darkest corner at the back of the room with a mostly empty glass of sherry, was a woman with thick glasses that made her eyes look like those of an owl and gray hair in a wild frizzy halo around her head. “I have been waiting for you.”

“For us?” Harry asked in confusion.

“My Inner Eye told me to seek you out, to wait in this pub where my last prophecy was spoken. A prophecy, once begun, cannot be broken. But it can be changed.”

Henry drew breath to ask another question, but the woman suddenly threw her head back and clutched the table, making a horrible raspy noise as she inhaled. “ _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches, born to those who have thrice denied him, born as the new year dies. And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal and he will have power the Dark Lord knows not. And either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the new year dies._ ”

Behind them, the door of the pub opened and Abe stepped in. The twins spun and looked at him with alarm, but he just frowned as he looked at them, asking in confusion, “What, did I miss something?”

Breathing a deep sigh of relief, Henry shook his head.

“No, nothing,” Harry lied glibly.

The woman straightened and threw back the rest of her sherry before getting shakily to her feet and stumbling past Abe out of the bar.

“Ah, ran into one of your professors, eh? Didn’t think you started the electives till this year, though.”

“We don’t, but I think we’ve seen her at meals every once in a while. She teaches Divination, right?” Henry asked, grasping at straws to cover up the woman’s presence there.

Abe nodded. “A fraud if ever there was one. I’ve heard she’s never told a true prophecy. But, ah well. There aren’t many Seers left in the world anyway.”

The boys nodded in agreement and quickly dashed up the stairs to their room.

“What do we do!?” Harry asked, rubbing his hair as he paced frantically.

“We’ve gotten some leverage. Neither Dumbledore nor Voldemort knows of the new prophecy, which means we can figure out who it’s talking about before them.”

“Right.” Harry sat heavily beside his brother on the bed. “In the meantime, how are we going to get our school supplies before school starts?”

Henry laughed, shaking his head. “Let’s just wait for them to send us our letters, all right?”

“Oh, right.” Harry smiled sheepishly.

“I’ll make a prefect of you yet!” Henry threatened. 

Harry blanched.

***


	22. Escape

Deep below the stony island fortress of Azkaban, below the sea that crushed against the rocks above, Sirius Black calmly unfurled the newspaper he had begged off one of Minister Fudge’s bodyguards. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the man gape at his casual position, and couldn’t hold back a small smirk.

“Dog got your tongue, Minister?” he asked, not even really looking at the paper before him.

“Er…shouldn’t that be ‘cat’?” Fudge seemed to recover slightly.

Sirius laughed. “I don’t think so.”

For some reason, this seemed to calm the Minister down somewhat. “Well, you seem to be doing all right, then. Eleven years in here and you’re still ticking, so you must be getting enough care. Right.” Fudge looked at his escort and motioned them to continue down the hall before Sirius could refute his ‘care’. “Moving on.”

With a snort, Sirius turned to actually read the paper in his hands. Once a year the current Minister was required to take a tour of Azkaban to ensure the ‘proper care’ of its inhabitants. Not that anything ever changed. Only remaining in his animagus form for much of his eleven years here had allowed him to remain sane around the dementors.

Perusing the front page, an article jumped out at him:

_Potter Twins Take the Dark Mark_

“WHAT!?” Sirius screamed, standing and pacing around his cell as he read the article quickly. Already he could feel a dementor moving closer in reaction to his despair and pain.

_Inside sources in the Ministry reveal  
that Harry and Henry Potter have been  
seen with a Dark Mark on their faces. In  
relation to Albus Dumbledore’s recent  
claims that the You-Know-Who has re-  
turned, this news is most troubling.   
Ministry sources have long main-  
tained that no one but the Dark Lord  
himself was capable of Marking someone,   
yet those same sources have as yet   
refused to admit that the Wizarding  
World’s greatest enemy has returned._

_Due to the location of the Mark on the  
Potters’ faces, the Ministry has not  
pressed charges. Amelia Bones, Head   
of the Auror Office, was heard to say,  
“They are victims, pure and simple. You-  
Know-Who would not Mark a true  
follower on their face—it would be too  
obvious. They are clearly victims of that  
madman’s return to power.”_

_Albus Dumbledore also backed these  
claims, saying that, “Messirs Potter will  
always be welcome within the walls of   
Hogwarts. I know they would never join  
the man who murdered their parents.”_

_This reporter has sought to interview the  
Boys-Who-Lived themselves, but the owner of   
their current residence—the Hog’s Head in   
Hogsmeade—repelled our every advance._

_Learn more about the history of the Boys-Who-Lived on page 3._

Sirius crumpled the paper in his hands as the dementor stopped outside his cell, its rattling breath a familiar and horrifying sound in the animagus’ ears. He didn’t dare transform with the Ministry so close, and was forced to suffer through his worst memories over and over again. When the memory of finding Lily and James dead came for the third time, he snarled to the empty air, “I’ve been here too long!”

When the patrol came through the next morning, the cell was empty.

-o-0-o-

 _Dear Messirs Potter,_

_Due to the abbreviated notice before the start of term, Hogwarts will be allowing students to owl order their supplies from Diagon Alley. Third years and above will also be able to visit Hogsmeade on the weekends—an especially early visitation date is being made available so that those students needing to begin studies for their OWLs and NEWTs can gather their materials without the hassle of waiting for an owl order to arrive. Flourish and Blotts in Diagon will be making a visit to the school on the first morning with a selection of used and new texts from our list. If you desire additional reading materials, you will have to place the order separately._

_The supply list and the permission form for Hogsmeade weekend are attached. We look forward to welcoming you back to a new school year._

_Yours Sincerely,  
Minerva McGonagall  
Deputy Headmistress  
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_P.S.—Thank you for your help with our scaly problem._

Harry grinned as he read the postscript. It was written in the same looping script as his head of house’s signature.

“What do the defense texts look like this year?” he asked Henry, who had snatched up the supply list almost immediately.

“Remarkably sound, considering the professors we’ve had so far. I can only hope that this year we’ll actually learn something _in_ the classroom.”

“What about our electives?” Harry plucked the list from his brother’s fingers, and Henry picked up the permission forms instead. “ _Four books_ for Ancient Runes!?” Harry exclaimed. “I’ve only got one for Care of Magical Creatures. What do we need _four books_ for?”

“They’re runic dictionaries, you twit,” Henry laughed. “Only one of them is a textbook.”

“ _Spellman’s Syllabary_ is a dictionary. The rest of these are…are…”

“Having second thoughts about taking a _real_ class?” Henry sneered in his best imitation of Draco. “ _Ronald_ wanted you to take Divination with him.”

“Yes, and you and Hermione managed to talk us out of it. Well, more you than Hermione. I wonder how she’s going to manage taking _everything_?”

“About the same way I imagine Ron will handle taking Muggle Studies with her. She’s going to be a nightmare in there, I don’t know what he was thinking.”

“Probably decided if Divination was a bust, he might as well learn something that will help him bond with his dad. From what I can gather of his family, by the time Ron was born, his dad was working overtime at the Ministry most nights—they’ve never really gotten to know one another the way they ought to.”

Henry shrugged uncomfortably and turned the forms in his hands so Harry could see them. “We have to have our guardian sign them. Do you think Abe will suit?”

“Only one way to find out.”

-o-0-o-

“I’m sorry boys, but Albus has forbidden me, under any circumstances, from giving you permission to go into Hogsmeade this year.”

“But _why_?” Harry demanded.

Abe sighed and rubbed his balding head. “He didn’t say this, so don’t go letting me put words in his mouth, but I think he’s afraid if you come into Hogsmeade that the Death Eaters will attack just so ol’ Tom can get his hands on you occasionally throughout the year.”

Henry opened his mouth to argue, then snapped it shut as he realized that the bartender’s logic was sound. With a sigh, he told Harry, “Just leave it. If Dumbledore is behind this, there’s no way we’ll ever be allowed to go. No matter _who_ signs our forms.”

-o-0-o-

That morning’s Daily Prophet delivered another surprise.

“Sirius Black?” Harry cried as he read the front page, “Who’s he?”

Abe, sitting behind the bar where they were having breakfast, froze in the process of polishing a glass.

“You know something,” Henry said, staring intently at their guardian.

“I don’t know nothin’,” Abe countered, polishing furiously and avoiding their eyes.

“Oh come off it, Abe,” Harry joined in. “It’s obvious you know who they’re talking about. After all, if it’s such a big deal he’s escaped, he must be famous.”

Abe grunted. “He’s only famous because no one has ever escaped from Azkaban.”

Henry’s eyes narrowed. “Then why does his name sound so familiar?”

The bartender froze again and his eyes flew up to the older boy’s in surprise. “Don’t tell me you remember…?” he caught himself, but then realized that he had already said too much. With a sigh, he set aside the smudged glass in his hands. “You really don’t want to know, boys. You’ll only be hurt by it.”

The twins exchanged glances and then looked at Abe with crossed arms.

He groaned. “Fine. Sirius Black was your father’s best friend. And he’s also the one who told You-Know-Who where your parents were hiding. He betrayed your parents and then killed Peter Pettigrew and a dozen muggles in the middle of the street, laughing madly all the while.”

“Oh,” Henry said dully.

“He also happens to be your godfather, and would have legal custody of you if he were ever found innocent, which isn’t bloody likely. Now finish your kippers and get out of my hair!”

Both boys quickly shoved the last of their breakfast in their mouths and ran out the door to find something else to do for the rest of the morning.

Harry quickly found a large round rock and began kicking it in front of them as they walked. “Do you think what he said is true? That our dad’s best friend betrayed him?” There was a tight edge of anger in his voice that he couldn’t quite suppress. He didn’t even know the man—he didn’t know all the sides of the story. He couldn’t decide a man’s fate based on so little evidence. But his heart wasn’t listening to his mind.

Henry shrugged. “We don’t really have any way of knowing without asking dad, or this Sirius Black fellow—I guess one of their other friends might know, but I doubt it. The magic that was used to hide them was very complicated. I think only them and their Secret Keeper would have known where they were. If that was actually Sirius Black, then yes, I think Abe is right.”

“But if it wasn’t?” Harry kicked his rock and watched it disappear into the bushes beside the road.

“Then I don’t blame him for escaping. I just wonder why he waited eleven years to do so.”

Out of the bushes where Harry was looking, a large black dog suddenly burst forth and sat in the dust at their feet, its tongue hanging out the corner of its mouth. It was very skinny—most of its ribs were showing clearly through its dark shaggy coat—and covered in dust.

“Hey, boy!” Harry said gently, squatting so that he could extend a cautious hand to the large animal. “What’s your name?”

“Ruff!” said the dog. It took a few steps forward before suddenly rearing onto its hind legs and placing its front paws on the boy’s shoulders.

“Oof!” Harry cried, pushed onto his back by the dog’s weight.

The dog, a male, looked closely at the boy’s face as if to ask, “Now what are you doing down there?” Then it whined and licked his face, the side with the white Dark Mark.

Henry leaned over his brother from the other side with a smug smile. “Gryffindors, always waiting in the dust at Slytherin’s feet.”

“Bark, bark!” the dog cried, moving towards Henry with a menacing growl. The older boy quickly backed away with wide eyes—and here he had almost been convinced that the dog was harmless, just underfed.

“Hey, stop that!” Harry cried, sitting up and grabbing the dog by the scruff of the neck. It whined again, eyes rolling as it was pulled away. “He’s my brother, if you hadn’t noticed. He’s allowed to say stuff like that, and he’s the only Slytherin who can get away with it.”

Henry huffed indignantly, and said, “That dog is clearly even more of a Gryffindor than you, Harry.”

Harry grinned and rubbed the fur around the dog’s neck briskly. “Then why don’t we call him Gryff?”

“Call him Gry…? Oh no. Oh no you don’t, Harry Potter. Abe will _kill us_.”

“We can keep him outside when the bar is open.”

Henry crossed his arms over his chest.

“Oh come on, Hen! Look at him, he’s half- _starved_. Can’t we at least keep him until he fattens up a little bit or until someone comes to claim him?”

The older twin suddenly found himself confronted by two sets of puppy-dog eyes, one set green and one blue. Rolling his own eyes, he sighed. “Fine, but _you_ get to explain it to Abe.”

-o-0-o-

“Okay.”

Harry grinned victoriously while Henry’s jaw dropped in shock.

“Okay? _Okay_!? You’re going to give in, just like that? No promises, or dire threats, or…”

Abe held up his hand to silence him. “I hadn’t gotten that far.”

Henry looked slightly mollified at this.

“I want you both to go down the road and ask the man who runs the tool shop if he has any spare bits of wood. You’re going to build this beast a dog house out by the goat pens. And it must be weather-tight. When it gets colder out, I’ll set him up a bed in the kitchen at night, so long as he behaves himself.” He leaned over the bar to stare down at the dog. “And you’re going to _work_ , you hear me, dog? No lazing about in the sun all day chasing cats and daydreams. I’ve got a job or two that needs doing and you can help.”

“Ruff!” said Gryff, sitting placidly on the floor and looking attentively at his new masters.

Abe nodded with satisfaction. “Right. Off with ye, then. I don’t suppose you’ll need a leash, judging by how he follows at your heels, but see if you can’t find a collar and make a tag with his name on it. Or bring me something and I’ll transfigure it.”

“Come on Gryff!” Harry cried, and led the eager dog and his reluctant brother out of the pub.

Jim, who owned the tool shop, gave them a teetering pile of boards to build the house as well as a hand saw, hammer and nails. Henry decided he would like to get started on the house, and walked back to the pub with Gryff at his heels while Harry went to see if the local pet shop had a collar for their new dog.

Henry was a little surprised that Gryff decided to follow _him_ , though. He peered over the pile of boards in his arms to look at the dog and asked, “I thought you didn’t like me?”

The black dog cocked his head to the side questioningly.

“Well, you attacked me for being what I am—a Slytherin. Which isn’t exactly something I can help.”

“Ruff!” Gryff barked.

“What, you were just surprised?” Henry chuckled lightly. “All right, then. If you can live with me being Slytherin, I can live with you being a Gryffindor.”

The dog’s tongue wagged out of its mouth and he bounded in circles around the youth all the way back to the bar.

-o-0-o-

By dinner time, Gryff had a stoutly built dog house and a lovely red collar with a burnished gold nameplate bearing his name. 

When they showed Abe their handiwork, he just grunted and went about his business—they took that to mean he was satisfied and took Hedwig and Serash outside to meet the third member of their growing menagerie.

The great snowy owl just stared impassively down at the dog before flying off for a nighttime wing through the forest. Serash, once let down in his cat form, stalked imperiously over to the dog where there was much sniffing and investigating.

When Gryff started to growl and back away from the ‘cat’, Henry looked at Serash for an explanation.

_“Massster, I think he knowsss I am not a cat.”_

Henry looked back and forth between the dog and his familiar warily before making a decision. _“Transssform.”_

The dog looked at him in open surprise when he made the hissing noise, which Henry didn’t think was very dog-like behavior. His eyes narrowed a little more and he decided to keep an eye on the dog’s mannerisms. There was something strange…

The Quetzalcoatl shifted forms and returned to his white and silver scaly form. This time, Gryff moved forward and sniffed more cautiously, but seemed satisfied that at least this was the _real_ form of the creature before him.

 _“Can you tassste anything ssstrange about him?”_ Henry asked Serash. The snake’s tongue darted out into the air near the dog, tasting the air that shared the dog’s past.

 _“Hurt. Pain. Sssuffering.”_ Serash hissed with sympathy. He remembered all too clearly how it felt to be imprisoned in a cage. This dog had the same taste to him. _“Sssecretsss.”_

Henry’s head came up and he called Harry over from where he was watching Hedwig wing through the trees. _“What kind of sssecretsss could a dog have?”_

But Serash couldn’t identify the flavor for them, no matter how many times they asked. And Gryff seemed to grow more and more agitated as they spoke with the snake and then looked up at the dog in concern.

Harry called Gryff to him and rubbed his neck in concern. “You’ve had a hard time of it, though, haven’t you, boy?”

“But Serash said he smelled of secrets…” Henry started, but was distracted when the dog’s head suddenly whipped towards him in another display of non-dog-like behavior.

His wand was in his hand in a moment. “What…or who, are you?”

Gryff bellied down in the grass and dragged one paw over his nose as if ashamed.

“You…understand what we’re saying?” Harry asked in amazement.

It was subtle, but the dog definitely nodded in response.

“Are you a human trapped as a dog? Did someone make you like this?” Henry asked.

Gryff shook his head.

Harry gasped suddenly, as a realization struck. “You’re an animagus,” he whispered.

“But why don’t you transform?” Henry asked, puzzled. “Surely you don’t want to be kept as a pet by two teenagers for the rest of your life?”

The dog looked between them, then sat his head miserably in the grass at their feet. Even the wagging of his tail died down completely. He looked bone weary and sad enough to make a Death Eater cry.

Harry sighed and patted his head. “It’s okay, Gryff. You can stay here as long as you need to. And now that we know you’re not really a dog, we’ll give you more reasonable food.”

The ears perked up a bit at this, but he seemed to be falling asleep where he lay.

“Come on Har, let’s leave him to rest. We need to start packing up our trunks for school in a few days.”

“Yeah…” Harry trailed after his brother, his eyes happening to land upon that morning’s Daily Prophet as they went upstairs. The name ‘Sirius Black’ stood out in great black letters, and he paused, looking between the paper and the dog house through the window outside. Was it possible…?

-o-0-o-

“Come on, Harry!” Henry called impatiently up the back stairs in the Hog’s Head. “The train will be arriving any minute!”

“I still don’t see why we couldn’t take the train with our friends,” Harry griped, dragging his trunk noisily down the stairs behind him. “I mean, I’d almost rather get all the staring done _before_ we get to Hogwarts instead of right before the feast.”

“I’m sure Dumbledore either thinks we’d use the opportunity to recruit for the Dark Lord or that we’d be horribly beaten by most of the school. In either case, I wish he would at least answer our letters.”

Harry snorted derisively and dragged his trunk into the front room to rest beside the door. They could wish all they wanted, but they were yesterday’s news as far as the Headmaster was concerned.

“I’ll send your trunks up to the school. Go say goodbye to Gryff before ye go, then scoot!” Abe told them.

Gryff had remained a mystery over the past several days. He was already looking healthier from all the good meals he had been eating. Abe had raised an eyebrow at them when they asked him to feed the dog human food, but seemed admonished when the black beast wolfed it down, meat, bread, vegetables and all.

“Hey, boy!” Harry called cheerfully, kneeling as always to scrub the dog’s ruff.

Henry smiled fondly at the dog. Despite the fact that he knew it was really a man in there, he couldn’t help but like the beast’s playfulness and energy. He was also glad that the man was making the most of his situation and sloughing off whatever horrible things had happened to him before they took him in.

“I wish we could visit you while we’re at school,” Harry was telling the dog sadly. “But Dumbledore won’t let us come to Hogsmeade weekends—he’s afraid the Dark Lord will attack the other students because of us.”

“As if he needed an excuse,” Henry sniffed.

The dog’s ears perked forward at the mention of Hogsmeade weekends, and Henry could almost see the wheels turning in the dog’s mind.

“You could just come up to the castle during our free times. We’ll send Abe a copy of our schedule, so see if you can get a good look at it,” Henry told the dog, fondly rubbing his ears.

“And just in case you’re some kind of long-lost relative, the forms are sitting out on me and Hen’s bed. But I have to warn you, I doubt even having a signed form would be enough for Dumbles.”

Gryff’s tongue wagged in a dog-laugh, and the two boys laughed and waved to him as they took off down the path to the school.

“What was that long-lost-relative bit about?” Henry asked, curious.

“Oh, you know. The fact that he came to us and is staying with us made me think he might have at least known our parents. So it didn’t hurt to let him know where the forms were.” Harry also still harbored a secret suspicion that their dog was their godfather. And if that was the case, he was willing to suspend disbelief until he knew what had really happened the night their parents died. In the meantime, why not take advantage of that possible fact and get the forms signed?

“Right,” Henry said dubiously.

-o-0-o-

Sirius Black was having the time of his life. Not only had he found his godsons and learned that the Dark Mark was a result of their victimization, he was also about to play the biggest prank in Hogwarts history on one Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. With a flourish, he finished signing the forms in the twins’ room and penned a brief and irate letter to his old Headmaster.

_Dear Albus…_

-o-0-o-


	23. Shunned

Harry and Henry were the first to enter the Great Hall, and they took seats at the Gryffindor table so that they would be able to speak to their friends first thing. As the older students began to file into the room, however, they wondered if they would have been better off to sit with the Slytherins.

Dead silence rang through the hall as everyone got their first looks at the Dark Marks on their faces. Most of the Gryffindors sat as far away from them as possible. Only once Ron, Hermione, Neville, Ginny, and some of the other students in their own year had created a buffer did anyone sit nearby. 

“What happened?” Hermione whispered frantically as soon as everyone had surrounded the twins.

“I should think that would be obvious.” Henry sneered. Hermione jerked back as if slapped.

“Hen, it’s not their fault,” Harry told his brother. He leaned forward over the table to answer Hermione’s question, “The Dark Lord gained some knowledge that Dumbledore had been keeping a secret from us _and_ him—that’s why he Marked us.”

She opened her mouth to ask what the information was, but Ron—showing remarkable sense for once—told her not to ask after something like that where everyone could hear. “If it was bad enough that You-Know-Who Marked them, then it’s not something we should talk about at dinner. Besides, the Sorting is starting.”

In through the doors of the Great Hall trooped the line of tiny first years. Several of them looked positively terrified at the sight of the twins at the Gryffindor table. The first few who were sorted into the lion house chose to sit as far from them as possible.

“I don’t see Draco,” Henry whispered to Harry worriedly when the first Slytherin was sorted.

Harry peered over the tops of the heads between them and the Slytherin table and frowned as he too noticed that the distinctive blond head of hair was not present. “You don’t think something happened to him?” he asked.

“Remember, Snape told us that Draco had been locked in his room all summer. What if his dad found out we were still friends last year?”

“Maybe he’ll be here in the morning?” Harry asked, without much hope. They would just have to wait and see.

Finally the feast began, and the twins were surprised when McGonagall came down from the head table with a message. “The Headmaster asks that you meet him in his office after the feast is over. Make sure you ask a prefect for your dormitory password before you go.” She gave them an encouraging smile, trying to ensure them they weren’t in trouble, before returning to her seat.

“What’s that about, you think?” Ron asked.

Harry sighed. “Maybe he’s finally decided to answer our letters.”

“Or maybe he’s going to expel us,” Henry said pessimistically.

“Don’t be silly,” Hermione said breezily, “Professor McGonagall wouldn’t have smiled if you were going to be expelled.”

Everyone had a little laugh at that and they finished dinner and made sure to ask the fifth year prefect for the password just before Dumbledore ended the feast.

They ended up following the crowd of Gryffindors up to the seventh floor, since the Headmaster’s tower entrance was on the same level as the Fat Lady’s portrait. After managing to peel away from the crowd, they made their way to the gargoyle and found it had already been moved aside for them to travel up the revolving staircase.

Harry knocked politely before entering, and the twins took the two chairs positioned in front of Dumbledore’s desk. The man in question was standing to one side, looking out the window with his hands joined behind him.

“You wanted to see us, Professor?” Harry prompted the old man.

Dumbledore just nodded a couple of times and absently moved to sit in his chair.

“I have received a missive that has prompted me to offer you both a second chance,” he announced.

“Pardon?” Henry said. The man had been ignoring all of their letters—what could have changed his mind?

“I find it most curious that an escaped criminal such as Sirius Black would somehow get his hands on your Hogsmeade permission forms, much less have access to an owl that I know to belong to you both.”

Henry looked confused, but Harry blushed furiously and looked down at his hands.

“You mean, Sirius Black signed our forms?” Henry said incredulously. “But how…oh.” He suddenly remembered Harry’s odd conversation with Gryff and looked at his brother accusingly.

Harry grinned sheepishly.

“I am not concerned that you have had relations with the man. He is your godfather, after all, and I have always believed that he may have been innocent. Alas, I was never able to convince the Wizengamot to vote in the majority so he could receive a trial.” Dumbledore conjured a tea set with three cups and offered the pot to the boys, who both accepted. “On the contrary, I find myself somewhat amused at your ability to get past my precautions in keeping you away from the village this year.”

“Voldemort is going to attack regardless of our presence, Headmaster,” Henry said quietly. “Now that people are starting to believe that he’s back, he’s been making plans.”

Dumbledore gave them a sharp look. “How do you know that? Has he been calling you?”

Harry shook his head. “No, but we’ve been having dreams and waking visions of his activities ever since he returned. Something about our scars is creating a connection that lets us view him when he’s angry or upset, and I think the Dark Mark is amplifying that connection and causing us to view every Death Eater meeting.”

“Extraordinary!” Dumbledore said, delighted. The twins just grimaced. “This makes it easier for me to rethink my stance on you both. Without Severus, the Order of the Phoenix is somewhat without a good source of inside information. You can spy without the personal risk that was posed to him, and I believe I can trust you to be truthful. In addition, I have been investigating the matter of Voldemort’s horcruxes, and I think you may be of some use there as well.”

“How so?” Henry asked. “And what changed your mind so thoroughly?”

The Headmaster chuckled a little and pulled a scrap of parchment out of the pile of papers on his desk. “I received this letter of dire warning from Sirius along with your permission forms. It says:

_"Dear Albus,_

_"You must be a complete and utter wanker if you think my godsons are a danger to anyone—much less to a school full of children. If you don’t do something to help and protect them, I will earn my title of fugitive by kidnapping the children and teaching them horrible pranks to play on you and the rest of the professors until you capitulate._

_"Alternately, I’ll just enlist the Weasley twins. From what I’ve heard the boys say about them, they would be worthy successors to the Marauders._

_"I hope you live in fear of your pride and your life._

_"Yours truly,  
Sirius Orion Black  
Marauder Second in Command  
1st Ever Azkaban Escapee  
Godfather to the Boys-Who-Lived"_

Dumbledore laughed again as he placed the letter back on his desk. “Not the most threatening of notes, but it reassured me that my efforts to bring him to trial were just. Only an innocent man would use pranks as a threat, in my opinion.

“Now, I believe you also wished to know what I had in mind for you this year. Since your forms are signed, I cannot keep you out of Hogsmeade. I would, however, appreciate it if you used the utmost discretion should you choose to attend. As you no doubt noticed at dinner, I have hired Horace Slughorn as the new Potions professor—I need you both to attempt to befriend him by any means. The reason for this will be explained in due time.

“As for the horcruxes, I will send you a notice for a time when I would like you to come visit me for extra lessons of a sort. I have some research that must be finished before these lessons can begin, and I also believe that Horace will be integral to my ultimate plan. Suffice to say, I do not yet have all the answers I need, but I will share them with you when I have formed my final opinion on the matter.”

The twins both gave him slightly confused and disgruntled expressions, but agreed to this plan nonetheless.

“Wonderful! Now you may return to your dormitories. If you have any trouble with any students, please take your concerns to Professor McGonagall. She has been made aware of your situation and I believe she may be more capable of helping you than I.”

“Yes, Professor,” they chorused, returning their tea cups and standing to exit the office.

“Oh, and boys, do make sure to notify Sirius somehow that I have acquiesced to his request.”

With nods, they left the office and returned to their dormitory for some well-deserved sleep.

-o-0-o-

The next morning, the twins snuck out of the dormitory early and hid in the kitchens to better discuss Dumbledore’s plans.

“He’s barmy if he thinks we’re going to trust him _now_ ,” Henry said, biting into a buttered scone.

“Yeah, but this is probably the best way to find out what he’s up to, short of getting into the Order.”

“True.” Henry shrugged. “And it sounds like he’s going to trust us with information about the horcruxes—so maybe we’ll learn how to destroy them.”

“I wonder what his research is all about, though. I mean, surely a book that mentioned horcruxes would tell us how to get rid of one.”

Henry shrugged again and leaned back into his seat with a cup of tea. “Regardless, it sounds like the only thing we can do right now is try to butter up Slughorn. We should probably go get our timetables.”

They finished their breakfast and wandered into the Great Hall and sat at the Slytherin table, looking once more for Draco, who was still absent.

“Blaise!” Harry hissed across the table to one of Draco’s dorm mates, and one of the few they knew was not closely associated with the Malfoys or the Dark Lord. “Where’s Draco?”

“Hospital wing,” Blaise said indifferently. “No one saw him on the train, either, but I hear he was a right mess by the time he got here.”

Henry blanched and almost stood up right then and there to go see his best friend, but Harry held him back.

“Let’s grab out timetables first. If we’re lucky, we’ll have a free period this morning to go see him.”

At that moment Professor Slughorn, their new head of house, came along to give them their timetables.

“Let’s see, oh yes! The Potter twins…” Slughorn looked up and got his first good look at the twins. “Oh my! Dear Merlin, boys. I had heard, but I hardly dared to believe that you had taken the Mark. This public show of support will not help you gain much favor with the world, I can assure you!”

“It’s not a public show of support, Professor,” Henry told the balding and fat man as they took their schedules from him. “We weren’t exactly given a choice about whether we wanted it or not.”

“Oh, yes. Of course, of course. If you’ll excuse me…” Slughorn scurried away as fast as his short little legs could carry him.

“It hardly matters what the world thinks of us anyway,” Harry muttered.

“Well, it clearly matters to him. Remember, Har, we’re supposed to make friends with him,” Henry whispered.

Harry nodded and looked at their combined timetable. “Look, we don’t have anything until Herbology this evening. We can spend the whole morning with Draco.”

“I wonder how they intend us to do our electives, what with the bond being stretched too far and everything,” Henry mentioned as they stood to head up to the hospital wing. “I suppose it’s not like we’re both doing something at the same time, so we can just see if the bond will stretch and if not, stay somewhere nearby.”

The hospital wing was quiet this early in the morning. They were surprised to see Professor Dumbledore sitting by Draco’s bed and talking to him quietly. Whatever conversation they were having ended as soon as the twins entered the room.

“Ah, Harry and Henry. I was just telling Draco that you would probably be up to see him shortly.”

“Thank you, Professor,” Henry said.

“I’ll just leave you three to catch up, then.”

The twins waited for the old man to completely leave the room before sitting beside Draco’s bed.

“What happened,” Henry asked with concern, noticing that his friend’s bandages were wrapped around his whole torso.

“My father,” Draco whispered bitterly. “He asked my opinion of my former friends after a year of supposedly shunning you, and I decided to try and take a stand. I told him that I still thought you were wonderful and that I would like to still be friends with you. He didn’t like that much.”

“Sounds like an understatement,” Harry observed sadly.

“He spent the entire summer trying to reeducate me on the matter. Every time I said something contrary to what he wanted me to believe, I got a new lash. As you might imagine, that happened quite a lot.”

“What are you going to do now?” Henry asked.

Draco sighed and a pained expression crossed his face. “My father is still courting the Dark Lord in the Manor. I’m to be Marked when I turn sixteen.”

The twins hissed in sympathy, knowing first hand what kind of sentence that was.

“But I’m not going to do it,” Draco said firmly. He was staring off into space towards the ceiling. “I intend to renounce the Malfoy name and my claim as heir to the Lordship. Unless my parents have another child, the Ministry will claim all of our properties, seats, and money when they die.”

“Is that what Dumbledore was talking to you about?” Harry asked.

Draco nodded. “That, and where I would be living once I did so. I have an aunt who was estranged from the Black family. I’m going to write her a letter and see if they’ll take me.”

Henry blinked in surprise. “You’re related to the Blacks?”

“Yes, my mother’s maiden name was Black. She had two sisters—Bellatrix Lestrange, and Andromeda Tonks. They’re both married now. But I wouldn’t choose to live with Aunt Bella for all the money and titles in the world. She and her husband are both Death Eaters and in Azkaban.”

“Our godfather is Sirius Black, who just escaped. Except he’s innocent and sounds rather fun,” Harry confided.

Draco grinned. “If his name got cleared and he adopted you, we’d be third cousins!”

“Who would want to adopt us?” Henry scoffed, then grinned in return. “Though that would be wicked.”

“Do you two have classes to get to?” Draco asked.

“Nope, we’re free until Herbology just before dinner. Has anyone offered to bring you the assignments yet?” Harry asked.

“No, would you? I think the Slytherins are in Herbology right now, and I doubt they’ll remember.”

“Sure thing,” Henry promised. “We should let you rest some, eh? We’ll come back after lunch to chat some more and stay until class starts.”

“Thanks,” Draco said sincerely. “I…I’m really going to need my friends this year. I’m glad to know that you were worth all the hell I went through this summer.”

“No problem, mate,” they answered and then left as they had noticed their friend getting drowsy from the pain potions he had been given.

-o-0-o-

Draco was released from the hospital on Saturday morning, and so had only three classes worth of work to make up. With the twins, Ron, and Hermione’s help, they plowed through the Herbology, Charms, and History work with little trouble.

The group spent the weekend catching up with each other. Their estrangement from Draco the year before made things a little awkward until he shared his plans with the others. Ron told them on Sunday that his mother had offered Draco a home if Andromeda wouldn’t or couldn’t take him.

On Monday morning, Henry had Arithmancy without Harry and they tested their bond to see how it would handle the distance if Harry remained in their dormitory. After the hour of class was over, they were both feeling a little sore but it was otherwise a success.

That afternoon they had first Potions and then Defense, both with an unknown professor. 

Slughorn started class in a much different manner than Snape ever had. On a table at the front of the room, he had two dozen different potions set up that he was using for every class that week. The third years recognized a few of these, having brewed them during their first two years. The professor had prepared several of the potions from the third year curriculum to test their knowledge and to see who had been reading ahead.

To no one’s surprise, Hermione earned most of the points for the first half of class, which somehow made Slughorn like her a great deal.

To the twins’ surprise, considering the task Dumbledore had set them, the professor studiously avoided their tables or even looking at them. Of course, most of the class except their friends was doing this, but it did make things difficult when you had a question. It was almost like Snape all over again, ignoring Hermione’s quivering hand every time he asked a question.

At the end of class, they had brewed one of the potions on the table and everyone who created a superior version of the draft seemed to be receiving a little note from the professor. Everyone, that is, except Harry and Henry who had both brewed quite well, as they usually did.

On the way to Defense, they asked Hermione what it was.

“An invitation to the Slug Club,” Hermione said, rolling her eyes. “He’s almost as bad as Lockhart, but actually knows what he’s doing. I’m not sure if I should be horrified to be invited or honored.”

“The Slug Club?” Harry asked.

“It’s something he started the last time he was a professor here. He gathers together all of the smartest or most connected students in the school and starts a club with them. They gather and have parties and make connections with each other and other such nonsense,” Draco told them. “That was way back in the early forties, though.”

Henry thought about the time period with a frown. “How do you know about that? Your parents wouldn’t even have been born yet.”

Draco paled and looked around nervously before leaning close. “My father told me the Dark Lord was a member when he was here. And most of his top Death Eaters were also members of the club. It’s how he recruited so many while he was still in school.”

Harry and Henry exchanged a glance. Perhaps this had something to do with Dumbledore’s request?

When they reached the door to the Defense classroom, they saw their new professor up close for the first time. He had apparently been ill on the night of the feast and couldn’t make it, so Dumbledore had introduced him that weekend. He was still looking a little ill in the twins’ opinion, but seemed rather chipper despite that.

“Hasn’t someone mentioned Remus Lupin being friends with our parents?” Henry asked his brother as they waited in the hall for the rest of the class to arrive.

“Yeah, I think so. Do you think he was friends with Sirius, too? Maybe we should talk to him after class.”

Professor Lupin waited for everyone to arrive and then led them to the faculty lounge on the same floor. Slughorn was inside and seemed delighted to see his third year Gryffindor and Slytherin class attempt a practical demonstration.

“I found a boggart in the wardrobe in here over the weekend, and I thought it would be an excellent first lesson for my third years,” Lupin was telling Slughorn.

They had, of course, all done the reading for this class ahead of time and knew what a boggart was. Most of them were a little nervous about possibly facing their worst fear.

“I’d like to let everyone get a crack at it, as I’m likely to include this in the practical exam at the end of the year, and it would be a nasty surprise if some of you don’t know your worst fear. Can someone tell me a little about the boggart?”

Harry managed to beat Hermione in the hand-raising, and gave a short explanation.

“Excellent, ten points to Gryffindor. Now, I know it sounds daunting, but there’s a simple spell that will help us to deter the creature. Repeat after me: _riddikulus_.”

The class dutifully repeated the spell several times and then formed up into a line at the professor’s direction.

Ron faced off with a spider, Hermione with Professor McGonagall, and Draco with his own father, which made many of his classmates whisper frantically to each other at the things the man said to his own son. When it came to be Harry’s turn, the professor looked at him and then Henry behind him with concern and said, “I know I said everyone should have a go, but I worry that your boggart might turn into Voldemort or…”

“I’m not afraid of Voldemort, Professor,” Harry said firmly, a little surprised that the man had said his actual name.

“I see. All right then.” Lupin stepped back, opening the door of the wardrobe as he did. What emerged was something more terrible than anything that had come before. It seeped a cold mist across the room and sucked all of the life and warmth and happy feelings from everyone present.

Harry raised his wand and desperately tried to summon up something funny for the creature to do. He wasn’t even sure what it _was_. How could he be afraid of it?

The professor, realizing that Harry couldn’t do anything, jumped in front of the boggart and it changed into a luminescent orb hovering in the air. “ _Riddikulus_ ,” the professor said softly, and Harry stepped out of line to let his brother take a crack.

And suddenly Harry was lying there on the ground, apparently dead. Standing over him and laughing was a sixteen-year-old Tom Riddle, who kept switching ages as they watched. Henry clutched for his brother’s hand, and reassured that he was still there and alive, he cast _riddikulus_ on the boggart of Voldemort. The specter began to age faster and faster, until there was nothing but an old man standing there, hunched and crooked, and coughing as he tried to laugh.

The class laughed and with a puff of smoke, the boggart disappeared. Henry immediately took Harry in his arms and clutched him close, refusing to let go.

“Excellent!” Lupin cried, “Did we get everyone? Good. I would like ten inches about boggarts for our class tomorrow and read the chapter on hinkypunks in your text. Class dismissed.”

Everyone turned to leave the lounge, chattering excitedly about the first good defense class they had ever had. Harry, Henry, and Draco were called back though.

“I noticed that you three had some particularly hard fears to conquer, and I wondered if you would like to talk?”

Draco shook his head and said, “I knew my fear before I saw it, Professor. I have been making plans so that I won’t have to return home ever again.”

Lupin nodded, and Draco glanced at his friends before leaving the room.

“We’ll see you at dinner,” Harry promised.

Henry had his brother’s hand in a white-knuckled grip.

“I must say I was a little surprised at yours, Harry,” Lupin confessed. “And who was the boy—or man—in your boggart, Henry?”

“Voldemort,” he whispered.

Lupin looked surprised. “I remember him looking quite different the last time I saw him.”

“He was probably much older before. He’s been reborn much younger, since,” Harry offered. “What _was_ that thing I faced, anyway? It was horrible.”

“It’s called a dementor. They’re the guards of Azkaban prison, and the Headmaster has informed me that they may be coming to guard the school because Sirius Black hasn’t been caught yet."

The twins exchanged glances.

“Did you know him, and our parents?” Harry asked.

Lupin looked surprised, but nodded readily. “Yes. We were all rather good friends, and a boy named Peter Pettigrew as well. But then your parents had to go into hiding and Sirius…” he got an angry and helpless expression on his face.

“It wasn’t him, Professor,” Henry told him softly, still shaken by his boggart. “Sirius was innocent.”

Their Professor gave them a blank look for several moments. “Forgive me boys, but how could you possibly know that?”

“Sirius was never given a trial, was he?” Harry asked. “Dumbledore told us he kept pressing for one, but they always voted against him. I’ll admit we haven’t spoken to Sirius about this ourselves, but we think he’s innocent. We just don’t know how or why things happened the way they did.”

Lupin sighed. “I’m sorry, but I can’t believe that. He was the Secret Keeper—only he could have told someone where your parents were hiding.”

“But what if he wasn’t? What if it was someone else? Peter, for instance?” Henry asked.

Lupin shook his head. “If you can prove that to me, or find some way to question Sirius, I might be able to accept it. But for now, I reserve judgment. Why don’t you come and see me this weekend and we can talk? I did know both of your parents, and I doubt you’ve talked to many people who can say that.”

“Just Snape,” Harry said bitterly.

The professor nodded. “Yes, he was good friends with Lily for many years. Let’s say, afternoon on Saturday in my office?”

The twins nodded.

“All right, I’ll see you then.”

The twins left the room to head to dinner and Harry said, “We need to write a letter to Sirius.”

Henry nodded his agreement, and they decided to work on it that night.

-o-0-o-

 _Dear Gryff,_

_An old friend of yours is our new Defense professor. We were telling him all about you and we think he’d like to meet you properly. If you can, meet us by Hagrid’s hut at noon on Saturday._

_Love,  
Harry and Henry_

-o-0-o-

Abe looked suspiciously between the letter addressed to Gryff and the dog in question. “I don’t know why they’re writing to you. I have my suspicions, mind. Keep your nose clean, and don’t bring me any trouble, you hear?”

Gryff lifted one paw to cover his nose in shame and Abe grunted before handing him the letter. The barkeep picked up a glass to polish and watched as the dog carried the letter in his mouth out to his doghouse. “I’m beginning to think that Potters attract trouble,” he told the empty bar.

-o-0-o-


	24. One Step At A Time

By the end of the week, the third years were bogged down under an unprecedented mountain of homework. Hermione was especially harried; the rest of their group kept finding her in odd places or not at all, and she kept disappearing and reappearing in the middle of conversations without remembering what they had been talking about.

Saturday morning was spent with all of them attempting to catch up on their work in the Room of Requirement. The strange truce that had begun the year before was continued, if only in this space, and everyone was doing better in their coursework because of the extra help.

Ron and Harry were thrilled by their Care of Magical Creatures class. The first class, they had studied Hippogriffs and even gotten to fly on them. They figured if Hagrid could just curb his habits for dangerous creatures, things would work out fine. Even Draco thought the class had been interesting, especially now that he was casting off his father’s expectations.

Henry adored Arithmancy, saying that it was loads more useful than Divination, and much more accurate. The class that he shared with Harry, Ancient Runes, was actually interesting for both of them, and Harry came to appreciate all of the books that were required. Being able to cross reference the rune they wanted to use was immensely helpful.

And Ron was amazed by Muggle Studies. He could barely believe all the things that Muggles had learned how to do without magic. Everyone was amused to note that it was the only textbook that he had read all the way through—period, much less in the first week of classes.

Only Hermione seemed to be straining under the weight of it all. With a little difficulty, they convinced her to drop Divination and Muggle Studies at the end of the first week. The first, Hermione herself thought was useless. And the second, she already knew most of anyway, so what was the point in relearning it?

They were all relieved when she started relaxing and actually attending meals that weekend after meeting with McGonagall to discuss the transition.

After lunch, the twins said goodbye to everyone and said they were going to pick up Gryff before meeting with Professor Lupin to talk about their parents.

The large black dog was waiting for them beside Hagrid’s hut and jumped up on both of them to give them sloppy dog kisses. The boys happily rubbed his ears and scratched through the thick fur around his neck before leading him up to the school.

Professor Lupin greeted them warmly until he saw the dog on their heels. Suddenly the door to his office slammed closed as he locked and silenced the room, and the twins were magically thrust into the two chairs in front of his desk.

Henry was strongly reminded of Professor Snape the year before.

“I’m sorry boys, but I think you need to know that…that dog…”

“Is Sirius Black,” Harry finished, raising an eyebrow to match those of his professor. “Did you think we brought him here without knowing that? All of us would like to hear his side of the story, so why make him tell it twice?”

Lupin looked like me might argue, but the shifting of the dog from animal back into human distracted his attention.

“They’re right, Moony,” Sirius told his old friend. The last month of Abe’s cooking had done wonders for him, though he was still dirty, gaunt, and unkempt.

“Padfoot,” Lupin whispered, lowering his wand. He seemed to struggle with himself for a moment, then said, “Was it Peter? Tell me it was Peter.”

Sirius nodded. “I was supposed to be the decoy, since everyone expected me to be the Secret Keeper. And I’m ashamed to say that we thought you might be working for the Dark Lord.”

“Siri,” Lupin cried, rushing forward to hug the other man in a bone crushing hug. They pounded each other on the back for several moments, and the twins pretended that they hadn’t seen the tears each man wiped away.

“So, the full story?” Henry asked once they had recovered.

“Well, originally I _was_ going to be your parents Secret Keeper, but then I decided that would be too obvious and convinced James and Lily—secretly—to switch to Peter. I’m afraid that my plan worked entirely too well. I arrived just a few minutes too late, but I went into the wreckage and found you both lying in your crib with those scars on your cheeks. When I came outside, Hagrid was there and said that Dumbledore had asked for you, so I gave you to him and gave him my bike and went off to find Peter.

“The coward had gone into the muggle world, and confronted me in the middle of a street of witnesses. Bastard blew himself up and made it look like I did it. They told me all they could find of him was a finger.”

“Then, he’s dead?” Lupin asked.

Sirius shrugged. “As far as I know.”

“Good riddance,” Harry said angrily.

“I couldn’t agree more,” Sirius said with a grin. He held open his arms suddenly. “Come here, let me hug you both properly!”

The twins stood and were enveloped in the warm arms of their godfather. “The last time I held you both, I could carry one in each arm,” he said sadly. “I missed so much of your lives. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too,” Lupin admitted to the twins once they were released. “I’ve been living in the muggle world all these years. It was too painful to stay here after Lily and James died, and Siri…” he gave his friend a regretful look. “It was always easier for me to find work in the muggle world, anyway.”

Henry frowned. “Why?”

The two men exchanged a look. “Never mind,” Sirius said quickly. “We’re here to talk about your parents, anyway. I’ll bet you didn’t know that me and your dear old dad were two of the greatest pranksters to ever walk the halls of Hogwarts.”

And so they sat and listened as the last two Marauders told tales about their school days, and about the botched attempts James made to win Lily’s heart. Before any of them realized it, it was dinner time and Sirius decided that he should head back to the Hog’s Head before Abe decided he didn’t need to be fed.

They walked as far as the Great Hall, with Sirius in dog form, before parting ways. Lupin had agreed to escort Padfoot, as the twins were now calling the dog, to the front doors.

Ron, Hermione, and Draco came down the stairs behind them a moment later and spotted the large dog. 

“So this is Gryff?” Ron asked, kneeling down and rubbing the beast’s ears. Sirius gave a huge dog grin and head butted Ron’s chest when he stopped petting him. Suddenly, he let out a ferocious growl and out of Ron’s pocket scrambled Scabbers, who made a break for it and attempted to scuttle across the hallway to get as far from Sirius as he could.

“What? Scabbers!” Ron cried, trying to catch his pet.

Sirius barked loudly and ran forward to grab the rat, none too gently, in his jaws.

“Give him to me, Gryff,” Lupin told the dog, holding out his hand. Sirius reluctantly brought the rat over to his old friend and Lupin gripped him by the tail, aiming his wand at him. “He’s missing a toe on his right paw,” he said, looking meaningfully at Harry and Henry.

“I’ll fetch Professor Dumbledore,” Harry gasped, running into the Great Hall. Several of the students looked at him in shock and whispered as he ran past, but he ignored them and approached the head table where Dumbledore was looking at him curiously.

“Professor,” Harry whispered, “Professor Lupin has just caught Peter Pettigrew.”

Hoary white eyebrows shot up into the professor’s hairline, and he immediately abandoned his pie and followed the third year at a trot out of the hall.

“What’s this about Peter Pettigrew?” he asked in surprise, seeing Professor Lupin holding a rat by the tail while its owner, Ron Weasley, protested the treatment.

“He’s just a rat, Professor. I don’t understand,” Ron was saying.

“On the contrary, Ron. He’s an illegal animagus. Ah, Headmaster,” Lupin addressed the old professor. “Would you like to cast the spell? I don’t know that the Ministry would believe my testimony quite so well as yours.”

“Of course,” Dumbledore said, pulling out his wand and pointing it at the rat. “ _Figura reverto_.”

There was a bright flash of blue-white light and the figure of Scabbers writhed in Lupin’s hand. After a moment, he let it go and there was another flash as the rat hit the floor. Even as he tried to scurry away, he was getting bigger. Limbs lengthened and began to bend as a rat’s did not. The head became larger and rounder, and the tail disappeared entirely.

Finally, a short and very rat-like man stood before them, wringing his hands. “A-Albus,” he whispered, cringing.

“ _Silencio_ , _incarcerous_ , _wingardium leviosa_ ,” Dumbledore cast in quick succession, silencing Peter’s bumbling excuses, binding him and levitating him so that he could not get away. He added a charm to prevent the man from transforming for good measure. “Perhaps we should take this to my office, Professor Lupin,” he said, leading the way down the hallway.

Gryff whined and looked between Lupin and the Headmaster questioningly.

“Yes, you should probably come with us,” Lupin decided. “You lot go on to dinner. I promise we’ll handle this to all of our satisfaction.”

“He slept in my bed,” Ron squeaked, horrified at the knowledge that his rat was in fact a middle-aged man. “H-he watched me change! He saw me naked!” He looked ready to faint at that last admission.

Draco laughed and clapped Ron on the shoulder. “What I would have given to see that scene. Ronald Weasley changing his wide fronts only to turn around and see a middle-aged man leering at him.”

Ron blanched and wavered back and forth slightly as they dragged him into the Great Hall. By common consent, they sat at the Slytherin table. They were being much more reasonable about Harry and Henry’s Marks.

“I’m not hungry,” Ron announced once they had sat.

“Of course you are, you’re always hungry,” Draco scoffed, piling the things he knew Ron liked onto his plate. “Eat.”

Ron shook his head, beginning to look seriously ill.

Draco frowned and leaned over to whisper something in the redhead’s ear. Whatever it was, Ron suddenly turned a bright flaming red that clashed horribly with his hair and dug into his food with relish.

The blonde Slytherin just smirked and turned to his own dinner.

Hermione watched this exchange with a knowing smile on her face, and then turned to look questioningly at the twins. “So? What was that all about, anyway?”

“What?” Harry asked. “Oh, well Sirius Black is our godfather and he escaped from Azkaban over the summer. We found out that Peter was really the one who betrayed our parents, but we thought he was dead. We were rather surprised when Gryff attacked Scabbers, but if it means our godfather’s name is cleared, then it’s all to the good.”

“Oh,” Hermione said. “Well, I hope that the Ministry actually admits that they imprisoned the wrong man, then.”

“Me too,” the twins said at the same time, then giggled at one another. They hadn’t spoken in unison in quite some time.

The answer to that question came in the Daily Prophet the next morning. 

“Harry, Henry, look!” Hermione cried, showing them the front page.

_**Peter Pettigrew Lives!**  
Illegal Animagus Confesses to War Crimes_

They skimmed over the article until they got to the part about Sirius Black.

_The Ministry has pardoned Sirius Black of all charges and would like to make a public apology to Harry and Henry Potter, who were deprived of the care their godfather could provide for the first eleven years of their lives. Albus Dumbledore has already agreed to sign over the magical guardianship of the boys to Black and wishes the new family the best of luck._

“We get to live with Sirius!” Harry crowed, standing and pumping his fist, much to the amusement of the students nearby.

“There’s more,” Henry said, pointing to the next paragraph.

_As Black was also an illegal animagus, he has now been registered with the Department of Transfiguration as a large black dog that has been described as ‘Grim-like’. All of the properties belonging to the House of Black have also been returned, as well as the seats on the Wizengamot and in the House of Lords._

“Congratulations,” Draco told them warmly. “We might end up third cousins yet!”

“I wouldn’t mind that, I hear you’ve outgrown your parents, Draco,” said a voice behind them.

“Sirius!” the twins cried, standing to hug their godfather.

“Do we really get to live with you from now on?” Harry asked.

“Yes, and so can Draco if he wishes it.”

Draco’s eyes lit up and he smiled brilliantly at his cousin. “Really? I hadn’t heard back from Aunt Meda, so I was getting a bit worried.”

“I’m sure she’s just checking to make sure it’s not some kind of trick from Narcissa. They always did explode around one another rather spectacularly. Besides, I can actually protect you from your father, since I’ll also have THE Boys-Who-Lived under my roof. Albus is going to help me to renovate the wards on one of the Black properties to suit.”

The three boys exchanged glances. “Brilliant.”

“I’m actually here to have lunch with Moony, though, so I’ve got to run,” Sirius admitted, rubbing their hair and then dashing out of the room.

“Doth my ears deceive me…” one of the Weasley twins popped up out of nowhere.

“Or did he just say he was going to speak to Moony?” asked the other.

“Er, yeah. Professor Lupin’s nickname from when they were in school is Moony. Sirius was Padfoot, our dad was Prongs, and Pettigrew was Wormtail.”

Fred and George exchanged glances and then looked after the retreating form of Sirius. “If you will excuse us,” they said in unison, and then began to sedately stalk after the twins' godfather.

“What was that about?” Hermione asked Ron.

“Dunno,” the redhead said. “I’ve never seen them act like that before.”

“Maybe they’ve heard of the Marauders?” Harry hazarded a guess.

“Probably.” Henry nodded. “That would make sense.” The others looked at them questioningly. “Professor Lupin, Sirius, Dad, and the rat were part of a group of pranksters called the Marauders. If the twins got wind of them, they would probably want to meet their heroes or some such nonsense.”

The prank war which followed caused the list of banned items on Filch’s door to triple in length and required several special dispensations from the Ministry to repair damage done to the third floor hallway. Even still, a corner of swamp remained.

-o-0-o-

 _Dear Boys,_

_Glad to hear that you’ll be out of my hair next summer. Can’t say I won’t miss having you around, but I’m glad you’ll get to be with your family at last._

_Say hello to “Gryff” for me. I always knew he wasn’t really a dog…_

_Abe_

-o-0-o-

September bled into October and the small group of friends grew accustomed to their workload. The twins were still having no luck in making friends with Slughorn, which wasn’t entirely to their dismay. From the expression of misery that Hermione sported every time she received a Slug Club invitation, they were considerably lucky.

Dumbledore left the school for several weeks towards the end of the month, and returned only for the Halloween feast itself. This year the twins decided to stick close to their friends to prevent any of the trouble that had happened the year before. But that night they snuck down to see Professor Lupin as he was catching up on grading in his office from being sick the day before (with Sirius trying to distract him at every turn) and the four remembered Lily and James together.

At the beginning of November, Dumbledore disappeared again and the twins began to wonder when they would be called for their extra lessons.

To work off some of their excess nerves, they asked Lupin and Sirius to start giving them extra Defense lessons.

“But why?” their professor asked.

“Well, first there was this prophecy hanging over our heads, but now we’ve got the Dark Lord’s mark branded into our faces. We really need to know how to properly defend ourselves,” Harry explained.

They had told Sirius and Remus, as they now called him in private, all about the prophecy and Voldemort and Dumbledore. Henry had even revealed the bond that connected them, and didn’t miss the sharp glances both men had shown him or the looks they exchanged when he sat too close to his brother or they were too affectionate.

But Remus agreed to at least test them and see what sort of extra lessons he could cobble together in his free time. “You’re both really quite advanced for your age,” he admitted. “Though Harry is just a touch further than you, Henry. If you can meet me three times a week, I could probably get you up to NEWT level at least on spells by the end of the year.”

With the promise of extra lessons in Defense, their normal schoolwork, their constant attempts to flatter Slughorn, and the inevitable waiting for Dumbledore to summon them, Henry found it hard to enact his plan of finding himself and Harry suitable dates for even an hour of the day, much less someone to see regularly.

In the end, he decided that waiting another year could hardly hurt anything. Harry was still too innocent to know where things were going between them.

Henry just hoped he would be able to push his brother away when the time came.

Finally things began to look up just before Christmas. Although Sirius had invited them to see his home, they had decided that it was safer to stay at Hogwarts for holidays and that spending it with Remus and Sirius together at school was just as good as going home.

One week before the holidays were to begin, they received an owl from Madame Bones, inviting them to tea on Christmas Eve. The woman had also extended the same invitation to Sirius and Remus, having known already of their affection for the twins.

After ensuring that they would be allowed to leave the school for a few hours to attend, the boys, Sirius and Remus had owled back with an acceptance of the proposal.

At the same time, a select number of people in the castle were talking about the Slug Club party that was being held in the dungeons, also on Christmas Eve, and who was inviting who to attend. Hermione despaired of finding anyone to take, until both Draco and Ron offered to escort her.

“Well, I can’t go with both of you!” she exclaimed as they both made the offer.

“Why not?” Ron asked. “This way you can dance all night long, and whenever one of us gets tired we can switch.”

Hermione just sighed with exasperation and promised that they could both come with her. Since the twins were unlikely to be invited and were going to be out of the castle anyway, they asked their friends to see if they couldn’t put in a good word for them with Slughorn.

Christmas Eve saw everyone getting ready in the Gryffindor dormitory. Draco had brought his things there to make it easier for both he and Ron to escort Hermione. Even Harry and Henry were getting dressed up, having been assured by Sirius that tea with the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was a Formal Occasion.

They had all had to owl-order dress robes, Draco buying Ron’s as a Christmas present. Harry and Henry had opted for simple black robes in a nicer fabric and lined in green to match their eyes. Ron had managed to avoid the dreaded maroon that his mother always forced on him and looked quite nice in his dark blue robes. Draco hardly needed the practice, and had ‘simply picked something from his wardrobe that would suit’ and that incidentally complemented Ron’s robes of choice.

When the four boys emerged from the dormitory, they were all gob smacked at Hermione’s appearance. Her hair had been tamed, at long last, and was swept up on top of her head in a cascade of curls that framed her surprisingly long neck. She was wearing a lovely powder blue dress with a light robe over top that was such a pale blue it was nearly white.

Draco, in his element, swept forward with a large square jewelry box and presented the muggleborn with necklace of lapis lazuli stones in a silver setting.

“Oh, Draco, I can’t…” she tried to refuse.

“Nonsense. I bought Ron robes as his present, and I bought you this necklace. Happy Christmas, Hermione.”

She smiled happily as he put the necklace on her. “Happy Christmas.”

“Oi, where’re our presents?” Henry asked, raising a sardonic eyebrow at his friend.

“You two will get them tomorrow like everyone else. Tonight is special, so I had to give theirs early,” Draco sniffed haughtily and offered Hermione one arm and Ron the other. Together, they made it as far as the portrait hole before dissolving into giggles as they realized they couldn’t stalk imperiously from the room since the exit was too small.

Harry and Henry shook their heads and followed behind them, intent on meeting their godfather and honorary Uncle in the entrance hall.

“Boys, you look fantastic,” Sirius cried when he saw them.

Having grown used to their godfather’s theatrics, they looked to Remus for confirmation.

“You look wonderful,” Remus assured them, while Sirius pouted. “Shall we?”

They entered the Great Hall, where Professor McGonagall was waiting for them with a pot of floo powder. Each of them took a handful and threw it in the fireplace, calling out, “Bones Manor, Receiving Room,” as they went.

The room that Harry stumbled into was more ornate than any home he had seen thus far in the wizarding world. It was clearly much older, with wooden molding around the tops of the room, and warm golden wood panels around the bottom. The wallpaper was tasteful, which was more than he could say for the Dursley residence.

“Messirs Potter, welcome. Mr. Black, Mr. Lupin.” Madame Bones entered the room at the sound of the floo and shook everyone’s hands before leading them into the adjacent parlor. “Please, pick a chair. I’ve been looking forward to talking to all of you for the past couple of weeks.”

She poured the tea herself, rather than relegating that duty to the house elf who brought it, and fixed everyone’s cup to their liking before handing it over.

“I know I had promised you boys that I would keep in touch after meeting you this summer, but then Mr. Black here escaped from prison and I was unfortunately detained in trying to catch him.”

Sirius grinned sheepishly. “Good to know you don’t hold that against me, Madame,” he said.

“Please, call me Amelia, all of you. I have asked you here as friends and I simply can’t have you calling me Madame constantly.”

The twins sipped their tea and helped themselves to the tray of biscuits on the table in front of them, mostly just listening to the conversation around them.

As Amelia was pouring herself a second cup of tea, she said, “Another reason I had asked you to come here is that I believe we are all of a like mind to help Harry and Henry survive the coming war with Voldemort. It is my understanding that Albus has largely given up on them, believing that they can no longer fulfill a prophecy or some rubbish like that.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Harry said, nibbling on another biscuit. “Although that changed a bit at the beginning of the year. He decided we might be of some use in dealing with Voldemort’s immortality.”

“Surely he’s not actually…” Amelia trailed off as they shook their heads.

“He is, but we probably shouldn’t tell you too much. The less you know, the safer you’ll be. Imagine if everyone knew how he managed to survive the killing curse after it rebounded from us. I think he would become extremely paranoid—more so than he already is,” Henry said.

“I can understand that. But do you think this is a task that you will be able to handle alone?” she asked them seriously.

The twins exchanged a glance and then Harry spoke. “Probably not. But until we know more, I’m not sure we really know the answer to that question. We’ve been waiting for Dumbledore to tell us more about it, but he’s been busy researching something.”

All three adults looked intrigued by this, but didn’t comment.

Amelia set down her cup and took a few biscuits on a napkin for herself. “Well, I am ready to give you my support. Some of my sources inside and out of the Ministry are suggesting that Voldemort has some kind of plan that will take place this summer. I haven’t been able to get anything more specific. I have also talked to the aurors and many of them said they would be willing to visit the school on occasion and help give you extra lessons.”

Remus spoke up at that, “Sirius and I have already begun teaching them advanced Defense, but help from actual aurors would be appreciated. I think with the plan I’ve made up I’ll have them to NEWT level by the end of the year.”

Amelia’s eyebrows rose. “That far? I had only thought to get them a couple of years ahead!”

“Defense is my best subject, A-Amelia,” Harry said, stumbling over her name, making her hide a smile. “And Henry is really good at learning things from books, so he usually can keep up with me.”

“Then how about this, I’ll send an auror on those days that you have lessons and we can include some of the auror training regimen in their lessons. I suppose you haven’t been focusing on including physical fitness in their exercises?”

Remus shook his head, looking a little sheepish, while Sirius hit himself on the forehead.

“I knew Azkaban rattled my brains, but you’d think I’d have remembered the useful things from auror training,” he said.

“About that, I would like to offer you the option of becoming an auror again. You would probably have to attend basic training classes until we get you whipped back into shape, but I seem to remember hearing stories about your exceptional promise as a law enforcer.”

Sirius gave her a brilliant smile. “That would be great! Although, I have been helping to cover Remus’ classes when he gets ill, so as long as I can continue to do that it would be fine by me.”

Amelia glanced between the two men and then at the twins and smiled slightly. Judging from the narrowed eyes on the boys they were beginning to question that ‘illness’.

“Excellent. So for now we train up you three boys and I’ll let you know if I get any more news about Voldemort’s plans.”

“If we hear anything, we’ll let you know as well, Amelia,” Henry promised. He figured if they were already reporting to the Order about their visions, they might as well share any news with the DMLE.

Amelia stood and the gentlemen in the room automatically rose as well. “Thank you very much for coming,” she said. “I’ll be sure to ask you back this summer if things go according to plan.”

“Thank you, Amelia,” they all said in various ways. Then they each took a handful of floo powder once more and returned to the Great Hall at Hogwarts where dinner was just about to start.

“We’re going to go wrack our brains about auror exercises and adjust your training schedule,” Remus told them.

Sirius hugged them goodbye and they turned to sit at the Slytherin table alone, since all of their friends were at the Christmas party in the dungeons.

“Well, looks like we’re about to become even more busy after the holidays,” Harry groaned.

A girl who looked to be Ginny’s age with white-blond hair and wearing Ravenclaw robes came over to them then. “Excuse me, I have a message from Professor Dumbledore.” Her voice was rather dreamy and vacant as she handed them the slip of parchment before skipping over to take a seat at her house table.

“Who was that?” Harry asked, looking after her.

“No idea,” Henry answered. “But I think she’s in Ginny’s year.”

They looked at the note and groaned again. Dumbledore had finally contacted them and had asked for their first meeting to happen on the evening of January third. Now they really would have no time at all to themselves.

-o-0-o-


	25. Unwelcome

Draco’s presents for the twins were just as nice as the robes and necklace he had gotten for Ron and Hermione. They both received very nice heavy wool cloaks that had deep hoods, “The better to hide your faces with, if you want,” Draco told them.

Hermione gave them some books on advanced charms and transfiguration since, “You can’t very well learn nothing but Defense spells. No one actually duels that way, and if they do they must be sorely outclassed.”

Ron, having been badgered somehow by his mother into learning how to knit (he promptly learned well enough to do so magically), gave everyone matching silver, white, and gold hats and scarves, to display their inter-house unity. “Now everyone will know better than to mess with any of us, because we’re welcome in two houses and have as many people to back us up.”

Predictably, Hermione practically burst into tears at Ron’s ‘noble actions’.

The first day of the new term arrived wet and cold as all of the students slushed their way through the icy snow to return to school and the warm dinner waiting for them in the great hall. Dumbledore had returned, at last, but his left hand was a blackened and withered piece of flesh that appeared to be quite useless to him now.

And then, halfway through the meal, Voldemort decided to call a meeting of his Death Eaters and doubled the pain by extending the ‘invitation’ to the twins.

-o-0-o-

Harry and Henry found themselves close to one another, sharing a pair of eyes as one looked out the left and one the right. A hand was stroking their scales, oh so deliciously, and they could smell the pain from the master’s mate leaning against the arm of the throne beside them with his arm bared.

The master was holding the tip of his wand against the mark on the man’s arm, and rolling the narrow point against the skull in a brutal caress. They hissed, pleased, when the master’s mate finally allowed a gasp of pain to pass his lips.

Through the doors at the front of the room, men in dark cloaks and wearing full-face white masks emerged and took pre-determined spots to kneel to the master and supplicate themselves before him. As the taste of fear filled the air, they hissed again in satisfaction even as the master’s chest rumbled with a darkly pleased chuckle.

Only when the room was so quiet you could hear each man’s breath as it whistled, slow, fast, or panicked through thin pale lips, did Voldemort speak. “Death Eaters,” he called, just loudly enough for his voice to reach the back of the room without echoing. “Soon, the final obstacle in our path to victory will be removed. One final death and we will ascend as the masters of our brethren, and rule them with an iron fist.” 

He stood and swept down the stairs of his dais, his snake familiar still draped around his shoulders. Voldemort passed among his followers, straightening a cloak here, or squeezing a shoulder there. Little touches just so he could enjoy the gasp of fear or the shine of pride in their eyes as they decided, depending on their current favor with him, whether they would live or die tonight.

“Tonight!” he cried, standing behind all of the gathered men and watching with glee as they jumped, “You will receive your final orders until the day of reckoning. The Order has been too informed about my doings as of late, so you will be informed separately. You will not breathe a word of your task to anyone, lest you wish that I would simply kill you to spare you the pain.”

He stalked through the center of the gathering and back up the stairs to his throne, and slowly sat as he brushed his gaze over every man present. “And whatever task I give you, you will focus only on it until we have succeeded.”

Beside him, Severus crossed his arms over his chest and Voldemort smiled. His plans for Severus were the greatest of all.

The twins felt themselves fading away from their snake self as the meeting came to a close. Mentally clutching at one another, they welcomed the blackness of the void.

-o-0-o-

Luckily for the twins, they didn’t remember much more than falling out of their seats at the Slytherin table, but their sore throats attested to the fact that they had been doing a lot of screaming.

Aside from the frightened white faces of their friends in the hospital wing later that evening, they also had to suffer through the pinched and terrified glances from the rest of the students the next morning.

On the plus side, they did earn many more sympathetic glances than they had been getting before the Dark Lord’s attack.

Another note came from Dumbledore by way of the blonde Ravenclaw at lunch, reminding them of the meeting that night and asking that they use their invisibility cloak to come to his office.

They were a bit surprised when they arrived to find that the girl who had delivered the message was already there.

“Ah, Harry, Henry. Welcome!” Dumbledore said with a smile. He offered them tea, which the girl was already sipping, and then motioned them into the two chairs waiting for them in front of his desk.

“I took the liberty of asking Ms. Lovegood to join us for a few minutes. Her mother was a true Seer and it has come to my attention that she has inherited the gift, though it is still untrained. I wanted to make sure there wasn’t some hope of either of you still being the subject of the prophecy.”

The girl looked at them with a dreamy smile, her eyes somehow staring at them and through them at the same time. “I’m Luna Lovegood, second year Ravenclaw. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Harry said with a smile, thankful to finally know her name. Henry just nodded.

“Ms. Lovegood, if you would?” Dumbledore asked.

“Of course, Professor, I was just enjoying my tea so much I didn’t want to put it down.” She set the cup on the edge of the desk and turned in her chair to face the twins and held out her hands.

Unsure what to do, they each took one, only to have them turned palm up as she peered intently at the lines crossing their palms. After a few moments she spoke, “I always wondered whether twins had identical handprints, but it seems that is one myth that can be safely dispelled.” 

She released Harry’s hand momentarily and focused on Henry’s. “Your life line intersects all of the other major lines on your hand. This brings you into frequent danger and makes it hard for you to understand yourself. There is also this V-shaped line which your life line bisects.”

“V for Voldemort?” Henry asked, amused.

“That would be silly,” Luna said, not sounding either angry or amused or even fascinated by the conversation. “Harry has the V as well. I think it represents the two of you and shows that you will come together at some point in your lives.”

Henry glanced nervously at Harry as Luna released his hand. His brother didn’t seem to have recognized the connotations of that remark, but judging by Dumbledore’s grave expression, he did.

“Your life line,” Luna told Harry, “Has many tiny lines folding into it and making it stronger. You are a leader—there is something about you that draws people towards you without you even trying.” She looked up with a small smile. “I always wondered why I found you more attractive than your brother.”

Harry blushed furiously, while Henry fought down his jealousy.

“These two lines,” she gently fingered two lines that cut across Harry’s palm and passed one another without quite meeting, “represent an important choice which will dominate your life. Both of them touch the other small lines, but only one of them is connected to your life line. If you ever find yourself with a difficult decision, make sure you choose carefully. Only one of these lines will find its way into your life.”

“Do you see anything about Voldemort or their role in the war?” Dumbledore asked, popping a lemon drop into his mouth as he tried to hide his impatience with the reading.

“Oh, that,” Luna said dismissively. “They will both face Voldemort many times, but neither of them will kill him. That fate rests with another.”

“I see.” Dumbledore sucked on his candy with disappointment. “Thank you my dear, you may return to your common room now.”

“Thank you, sir. I’ve always wanted to meet Harry and Henry, but the opportunity never seemed to come up. I blame it on the wrackspurts.”

“The what?” the twins asked simultaneously.

“Wrackspurts,” Luna said again, walking slowly towards the door. “They’re invisible creatures that crowd around your head and distract you. They’re quite the detriment to society, you know.”

“Thank you, Ms. Lovegood,” Dumbledore said again. 

“Sir?” Harry asked once she had left. “Was that really necessary?”

“I had to be absolutely certain that there was no hope that either of you were the one from the prophecy. The information and subsequent mission that I am about to detail to you will place you both in grave danger. Were either of you the Chosen One, I would not have felt right letting you attempt this until you were older and stronger. But even as it is, I do not have much choice in the matter. Tom is moving _now_ , and so we must move as well.”

“What have you been doing all this time, Professor,” Henry asked, looking at the Headmaster’s withered hand with concern. It seemed to have gotten worse, even from the day before when the school had first witnessed it.

Dumbledore held up the hand and grimaced as he flexed his fingers slightly. “Ah, this. I was foolish, my boys. So very foolish. I can only hope that you will not follow my example during your search for the horcruxes. I don’t suppose you have managed to enter Horace’s good graces in all this time?”

They shook their heads ruefully.

“Alas, if only the key piece to the puzzle did not reside in his mind.”

“Professor, what do you mean?” Harry asked. “Why is Professor Slughorn so important?”

“Horace taught Tom Riddle in potions when he was here many years ago. He was the boy’s head of house as well. He holds a memory that may tell us, once and for all, of the depths of Voldemort’s depravity as it concerns his horcruxes. But it will do no good simply to tell you, so come over here and I will show you.” He led them over to a cabinet where he removed a heavy stone basin using his one good hand and set it on a table in front of a little glass curio that held an assortment of vials, all with little silvery wisps floating inside them.

“This,” he motioned to the basin, “is called a pensieve. It is used to view memories, like those you see there in the case.”

There must have been hundreds of memories in the case, but the professor only removed three, carefully pouring them one after the other into the empty basin and swirling them with his wand. “After you, boys. Just place your face into the memories and you will be pulled into them.”

They did as he instructed and were surprised to find themselves, moments later, standing on a dirty London street outside of a building labeled as “Stockwell Orphanage”. Beside them stood the Headmaster, and a much younger red-haired version of himself staring up at the sign. The younger Albus moved forwards and they followed him into Tom Riddle’s history.

-o-0-o-

 _July 15, 1942_ —  
Tom had never taken well to strangers. Much less strangers entering his bedroom with the matron. It was probably the main reason he had never been adopted. He just didn’t open up to people willingly.

But the strong scent of gin on the matron’s breath made him even more wary of this man wearing a ridiculous plum purple suit.

“Tom, this is Mr. Bumbledore. He’s come to talk to you.” The matron looked between the two expectantly as though they would instantly hit it off. “Oh, well, I’ll just leave you to it.” She beat a hasty retreat, closing Tom’s bedroom door behind her.

The two continued to stare for several more moments before Bumbledore came to sit in the wooden chair beside Tom’s bed.

“Tom,” began the purple-clad man, “My name is Professor Dumbledore.”

“Professor?” Tom interrupted, “Like a doctor? Have they decided to send me to the crazy farm at last?” He scrambled off of the bed away from Dumbledore. “You’re here to take me away aren’t you? Tell the truth!” Tom forced a bit of magic into his last words, making them ring forcefully in the air.

“No, Tom.” Dumbledore spoke softly, and a little sadly. “I am a professor at Hogwarts. It is a school of…”

“Right, a school,” scoffed Tom, “A school for delinquents, right? Well I’ll have none of it. You can’t make me go!”

“Hogwarts,” Dumbledore spoke sternly, “is a school of magic.”

There was a long silence.

“Magic?” Tom asked, “It’s magic, what I can do?”

“What is it that you can do?” Dumbledore asked, piercing Tom with an almost hungry look.

“All sorts,” Tom breathed excitedly. Then he hesitated, the things he was using the magic for now would probably not be acceptable to this man. “I used to practice on a spinning top. I could make it keep spinning when it was about to stop. And once, I made it float. I can also make animals do things I tell them to, without training them.”

Dumbledore frowned. “And what of the things the matron has told me of? An incident with a rabbit, perhaps?”

“Lettuce?” Tom asked cautiously. “I didn’t mean to hurt her, sir. Billy just made me so mad when he wouldn’t let me hold her. I wouldn’t have done anything to her, but the children here are all afraid of me, because of what I can do.” Tom forced himself to sound sad, even managing to force out a few tears for show.

“Accidents of these sorts happen to many children as they grow into their powers. I’m sure you didn’t mean any harm to the rabbit, Tom, but you still caused the death of an innocent creature. Acts like this will not be tolerated at Hogwarts.” Dumbledore smiled pleasantly at the misunderstood boy in the bed. It seemed that the stories told by the matron were caused by his wayward magical abilities and not founded in fact.

“I understand sir.” Tom hung his head and pretended to be chastised, but he was shaking with excitement. “I knew I was different. I knew I was special. Always, I knew there was something.”

“Well, you were quite right.” The man smiled genially down at him. “You are a wizard.”

“Are you a wizard too?”

“Yes…”

“Prove it,” Tom demanded, forcing a little magic into these words too.

Dumbledore looked taken aback for a moment, but then pulled his wand from inside his suit jacket and pointed it at the wardrobe in the corner and gave it a subtle flick.

Within moments the wardrobe was a blazing tower of flame, and Tom stood up angrily, yelling, “NO!” Everything he owned, precious little that it was, was in that wardrobe. How dare this man, this wizard, destroy his things?

But with another flick of his wand, the flames disappeared and the wardrobe was left untouched. Tom turned to stare at the man, and found his eyes being held for several long moments.

Little crinkles appeared around the man’s eyes, and his expression grew concerned as he held Tom’s gaze. “I think there’s something trying to get out of your wardrobe.”

The boy’s head snapped around as a small rattling noise came from the closed doors of the furniture in question.

“Do you have some things in there that are not yours, Tom?” Dumbledore asked.

Tom looked at the wizard again and held his gaze. Something told him he would be caught in a lie this time. “I suppose so, sir.”

“Pull them out.”

He opened the doors of the wardrobe and saw his box of treasures was rattling on the shelf. Gingerly he pulled it down and dumped them on the bed for the man to see. They stopped quivering as soon as they were released from their prison.

“You should return these things to their rightful owners, with your apologies. I will know if you do not.”

“Yes, sir,” Tom said reluctantly.

“Thievery is not tolerated at Hogwarts, much like the uses you have been bending your powers towards. We can help you not only learn magic but also to control it. You are not the first, nor will you be the last student, to come into our care that has let their magic run away with them. But you should know that Hogwarts can expel students, and the Ministry of Magic will punish lawbreakers still more severely. All new wizards must accept that they must abide by our laws.”

“Yes, sir,” Tom said again, hiding his contempt for these threats easily. “I haven’t got any money, and I doubt Mrs. Cole could spare any for me.”

“That is easily remedied.” Dumbledore handed him a small pouch that clinked with coins, and he opened it curiously to examine a large fan-shaped gold coin. “Here is your school letter. There is a list of supplies that you can get at Diagon Alley. I can help you find everything…”

“You’re coming with me?” Tom interrupted. He had been looking forward to examining things for himself, and perhaps spending any extra money on some books or other things that looked interesting.

“Certainly, if you…”

“I don’t need you,” Tom said firmly. “I’m quite used to going around London on my own. How do I get to this Diagon Alley? Sir,” he added when the man caught his eye.

Dumbledore paused and stared at him for a long moment before, somewhat reluctantly, continuing. He explained about the Leaky Cauldron and where it was located, and told Tom to ask for the barman to open the entrance to the alley for him.

“And once I have all my things, how am I to get to the school?” Tom asked.

“The instructions are also in your letter. The train leaves from King’s Cross on September the first at eight in the morning. There is a train ticket in your letter as well.”

Tom nodded and set down the bag of money and the letter to shake the professor’s hand as he stood. He felt the sudden urge to ask after his most favored power. “I can speak to snakes. I found out when they took us to the country one summer. They come and find me, and I talk to them. Is that normal for wizards?”

The wizard’s eyes once more caught and grabbed his, and he felt some fleeting feeling in his thoughts, but it was gone before he could grasp it. 

“It is unusual, but not unheard of,” Dumbledore finally said.

Tom’s eyes narrowed, but just nodded in reply. The man knew something about that particular skill. He made a note to himself to look it up at the first opportunity.

“Well, it was very nice to meet you Tom. I look forward to seeing you in the fall.”

“Thank you, Professor.”

-o-0-o-

 _January 20, 1960_ —  
“Enter.”

He opened the door to the familiar office at the summons and strode forward to stand before his old transfiguration professor’s desk.

“Good evening, Tom,” Dumbledore said. “Please, have a seat.”

He paused as he moved towards the chair to stare at the Headmaster. “They don’t call me that anymore,” he said. “They call me…”

“I know what they call you, my boy. But alas, having been your teacher once I fear you will always be Tom to me.”

Voldemort narrowed his red-hazed eyes at the old man, but took his seat at last. “I have returned,” he began without preamble, “to once more request that I be allowed to return to the castle, to teach. Headmaster Dippet once told me I was too young, too inexperienced. But I have lived many more years now, and I have learned a great many things that I should like to pass on to the next generation.”

Dumbledore stared at him for several long moments with his fingers steepled in front of his face. Voldemort felt the subtle prying at his thoughts that he had once been oblivious to, as a child, but could now not only sense but block and subvert if he so chose. He did so now, sharing memories of his travels—the clean bits that the old man would find no objection with.

Finally the Headmaster spoke. “I know of your ‘travels’ as you called them. Words of your deeds have traveled far. I should be sorry to believe even half of them.”

He betrayed nothing of the anger he felt at the man’s words. But it didn’t matter. His true reason for coming to the castle tonight would remain a secret. But if he could shape those young minds to his cause… “Greatness inspires envy, envy engenders spite, spite spawns lies. Surely you know this, Dumbledore.”

“You call it ‘greatness’ what you have been doing, do you?” Dumbledore asked indignantly.

“Certainly,” Voldemort said, with a faint hint of nastiness in his voice, even as his eyes glowed a little redder than before. “I have experimented and pushed the boundaries of magic further than anyone else has ever dared. I have done many incredible things in recent years, Dumbledore. Things that man once thought impossible within the laws of magic.”

“Of some kinds of magic,” the Headmaster interrupted coldly. “Of other, much more powerful kinds of magic, you remain woefully ignorant both of the possibilities and the laws that govern them.”

Voldemort sneered, but Dumbledore continued.

“Why are you here tonight, Tom?”

“To apply for the position of the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, as I said already,” Voldemort snapped, losing patience with the old man’s games.

“No, that is not the right answer. You came here, with your henchmen sequestered in the Hog’s Head waiting for you, for some other purpose tonight. Because surely you must know that I would never offer you this position. Indeed, I fail to see why you are requesting a job you do not want.”

“On the contrary, Dumbledore, I want the job very much,” Voldemort said frostily, standing and gathering his black cloak around him like a mantle. “But if that is your final word…”

“It is.”

“Then I take my leave of you, for I believe we have nothing more to say to each other.” He turned and strode towards the door, pausing to listen to the old man’s parting words.

“No. The time is long gone when I could frighten you with a burning wardrobe and force you to make repayment for your crimes. But I wish I could, Tom…I wish I could.”

Voldemort stormed from the office and glanced towards the other end of the corridor where the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy was hanging. Good humor somewhat returned, he left the castle for what was likely the last time and returned to his ‘friends’ in the Hog’s Head pub.

And while there, he propositioned the barkeep for a bargain. In return for protection and a small amount of money to upkeep the shabby bar, Aberforth Dumbledore would report on the comings and goings of his clients, and keep an eye on his brother.

-o-0-o-

 _April 11, 1944_ —  
Sixth year Tom Marvolo Riddle glanced coyly at his head of house as the Slug Club laughed at one of the fat man’s jokes. “Sir,” he said during a lull in the noise, “is it true that Professor Merrythought is retiring?”

“Tom, I knew you would find out,” Slughorn said, in high good humor. “I’d like to know where you get your information, boy. More knowledgeable than half the staff, you are.”

Tom smiled while the other boys at the table laughed and gave him admiring looks.

A chime sounded a moment later from behind the professor and he turned to look at it in consternation. “That time already? You boys had better be getting back to your common rooms. Lestrange, I need your essay by tomorrow or you’ll have no grade for the assignment. Have a good night, all!”

One by one the boys left the room until everyone except Tom had left. He watched his potions professor putter around for a few moments, putting things away and tidying up before the man finally noticed him sitting there in silent repose.

“Tom! What are you doing, you’re going to be out in the halls after curfew if you don’t hurry along now.”

“Sir, I wanted to ask you something,” Tom said quickly, standing and striking a casual pose beside the fireplace.

“Ask away, then.”

“Sir, I wondered what you know about…about hor…”

-o-0-o-

The memory turned blurry and indistinct, and they suddenly found Slughorn looming there larger than life as he told them not to ask him inane questions and to _get out_ right this minute.

With a nearly audible thump, the three wizards returned to the room they had left from. The twins looked at the Headmaster in confusion. 

“What happened?” Harry asked.

“This is why I asked for your help in cornering Horace,” Dumbledore admitted. “That final memory is a lie. The true memory is something I fear will be very important if we are ever to defeat Voldemort once and for all.”

“It sounded like he was about to ask about horcruxes just before the memory faded out,” Henry observed.

“Yes, and I fear that whatever answer Horace gave, regardless of his fear or shame of the memory now, is integral to our mission. You boys _must_ find some way to weasel it out of him.”

“Sir, during our vision the other night, Voldemort was telling the Death Eaters that they only had to kill one more person to achieve their goal. Do you think he might have been talking about Professor Slughorn?” Henry asked.

Dumbledore looked thoughtful for a moment before shaking his head. “Horace holds a memory of importance only to Voldemort. Unless him keeping his horcruxes a secret will enable his victory, I don’t see how…” he paused and turned to rifle through some papers on his desk, looking for a particular one.

“What is it, sir?” asked Harry.

“When I was trying to convince Horace to return to teaching, he used a great number of arguments trying to refuse the post. Here!” he fished out a piece of parchment and read it over, his finger tapping one particular paragraph. “He said, ‘They’ve been trying to recruit me for months, Albus. The Dark Lord seems to think that I know something that will be of great value to him. I’ve been in hiding, moving every few days to keep ahead of them. But you can only tell these people no so many times before their interests turn from hounding to hunting.’”

“That’s why we can’t get close to him!” Henry smacked himself in the forehead. “He’s terrified that we’ll turn him in, because of the Marks.”

“Yes, and it would seem that there is something else that Horace knows other than that memory I wish you to procure, which is quite valuable to Voldemort. I will of course understand if you can’t find out, but it would be worth our while to at least try. It may be that Horace himself does not even know.”

“I suppose we can try. Asking about that may give us the leverage to get the memory,” Henry said.

“What about the other memories?” Harry asked. “Why did you show us those?”

“The first memory was the occasion when I first met Tom Riddle as a child. Even then, as you both saw, he had a violent, vengeful streak that he used to punish others as he saw fit. You will also notice that he lied about all of those things the matron told me about his odd accidents and the terrible things that had happened around the orphanage and to the other children.

“The other memory took place only ten short years after he graduated from Hogwarts. He worked in Borgin and Burkes for many years, and collected a number of priceless heirlooms that once belonged the Founders—many of which he murdered or stole to acquire. And then he simply disappeared. When next I heard of him, he was calling himself Voldemort and had gathered a small army of followers who were helping him to do terrible things.

“There are many other memories I could show you, boys. But it is late for tonight, and at the moment the most important thing is to get the memory from Horace. When you have achieved that goal, we will know where we stand and I will have a better idea of what you need to see to accomplish our mission of destroying all of the horcruxes. Send me a message when you have managed that and we will meet again.”

The twins nodded reluctantly and trooped out of the office and across the seventh floor to the Gryffindor common room. It was only as they entered the dark and quiet room that they realized how very late it was.

“How are we going to do it, then?” Henry asked, lifting his hands up in frustration as he remembered how they had been throwing themselves at the potions professor all these months.

“I think we should have realized the answer to that a long time ago,” Harry sighed and glanced at the staircase to the girl’s dormitory. “Hermione is already in the Slug Club. Now that we know what we need, perhaps she can manage where we couldn’t. Or maybe she can help us think of something instead.”

“Right. For now, sleep. I have arithmancy in the morning, you know. We can ask her at breakfast what she thinks.”

They were asleep before their heads hit their pillows.

-o-0-o-


	26. Love

The twins explained their predicament to Hermione the next morning on the way to breakfast.

“So you see, we could really use your help,” Harry finished, giving their friend his best ‘I really need a favor’ look.

“And as you can see, I’m really quite busy. Besides, Professor Slughorn only invites me to his stupid meetings because of my grades. I doubt he would take well to me asking uncomfortable questions about the things he taught Voldemort as a student.”

“Then, can you at least help us think of some way to convince the man to give us the memory?” Henry pleaded.

Hermione stopped outside the doors to the great hall and huffed at them. “He’s afraid of your Marks, right?”

“Right…” Harry started, but she cut him off.

“Then use it! He’s a Slytherin, he should respond well to fear tactics and blackmail. Now, if you will excuse me.”

“What’s up with her?” Henry asked once she had gone to sit at the Gryffindor table.

Harry watched as their sole female friend sat across from Ron, a knife and fork clenched in her hands as she glared at the red-head. Ron kept his head down and seemed unconcerned, if the rate at which he was devouring his breakfast was any indication. “Dunno. Seems like Ron must’ve done something.”

They joined Draco at the Slytherin table and found him staring morosely across the room at Ron and Hermione, pushing food around his untouched plate.

“What happened?” Harry asked as soon as they were seated across from the blonde, blocking his view.

“Oh, you know,” Draco said miserably, stabbing an already pockmarked bit of sausage. “Love.”

“Oh.”

Breakfast passed in unusual silence after that. Henry went to his class, and Harry returned to his common room to catch up on homework before meeting everyone again for lunch. They trailed together down to the dungeons afterwards, observing the tense silence between their three friends.

After potions, the twins stayed behind, intending to corner Slughorn and ask for a meeting later, ostensibly to discuss the previous week’s assignment. But the professor nearly shoved them out the door after everyone else, saying that he had to set up the room for his next class and he had no time for them.

“We need to find out his schedule to find a good time to talk to him,” Harry said with frustration.

“More than that,” Henry said, “there aren’t any other potions classes today, so he must know we’re up to something already. That will make this twice as hard.

They joined their friends to head to defense class, and smiled at Remus inside.

“We could ask Sirius to follow him around under the cloak,” Harry murmured as they took their seats.

Henry sighed and shook his head. “But then he’d want to know why, and we can’t really tell him much. It would be better if we do it ourselves, but we can’t miss any classes.”

“I’ve got it, then,” Harry said, just as Remus was starting class. “Tonight we’ll use it to sneak into his quarters and then do as Hermione suggested. Fear tactics and blackmail.”

With a plan, however badly formed, in mind, they turned their attention to their last class for the day.

-o-0-o-

“Move over,” Henry hissed at his brother. They were sitting on a couch in Slughorn’s quarters, waiting for the professor to return for the night after sneaking in as he was leaving for his nightly walk. It was already past midnight and he had yet to reappear.

“If I do that he’ll see my feet when he comes in,” Harry said for the millionth time. He didn’t understand why Henry was so hot and bothered about them sitting so closely pressed together.

Henry groaned quietly and resolved, then and there, to ask out Ginny Weasley the next day. The girl hadn’t stopped making eyes at them even after her unfortunate circumstances the year before. On the contrary, the hero worship in her eyes seemed to have gotten worse. At the least, maybe he could tone that down by dating her for a while.

The door into the teacher’s quarters opened then and Slughorn came in looking quite pleased with himself, holding a clutch of potions vials in one hand.

The twins waited for him to close the door and remove his outer robes before slipping from under the cloak, locking and silencing the door and training their wands on their professor.

The fat man, sitting in a high-backed and horridly upholstered chair by the fire, raised his hands into the air as though they were aurors come to arrest him. “B-boys…what is the meaning of this?”

Harry kept his wand trained on the man as Henry lowered his and began to pace in a circle around their professor as they had planned. His brother’s Slytherin nature made him better suited to the task.

“The Dark Lord is very interested in you, professor,” Henry hissed lowly.

“I-is he? Well, I’ve told him my answer many times already…”

“Yes, but it is not an answer he is willing to accept,” Henry said, standing directly behind the man and whispering in his ear. 

Slughorn paled dramatically and waved his hands helplessly for a moment. “I am a teacher, a potions master—I should be retired! What could He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named possibly want from me?”

Henry glanced up at his brother in frustration. The answer to that question was exactly what they wanted to know, in addition to procuring the memory.

Harry decided to take a wild stab to see if they got lucky. “There is a very rare potion that the Dark Lord believes you may know of…?” He slyly phrased it as a question, to see if they got any bites.

“That dratted old potion!” Slughorn said scornfully. “Half of the ingredients are myth and legend. It’s impossible to brew!”

“Be that as it may,” Henry said, looking at his brother again with excitement, “the Dark Lord would like the recipe, if you please. Perhaps he would leave you alone to teach and retire in peace if you cooperate…”

“Fine, let me go to the desk and write it down.”

Harry motioned with his wand for the man to stand and kept it trained on him as he shuffled over to a desk in the corner and began writing.

“There,” he said a few minutes later. “That’s the whole of it. Now leave me alone!”

Henry noted that it was mostly a bluster of fear that the professor was using to discourage them. “Not so fast. There is one other matter.”

“A memory,” Harry said, drawing the professor’s attention. “One that is very dear to the Dark Lord and that he would like to keep safe from Dumbledore. You will give it to us.”

Slughorn turned white as a sheet and backed up towards the wall, trying to evade the twins who now both had their wands trained on him.

“Boys, I can’t…I mean, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Of course you do, professor,” Henry said silkily. “You hold the Dark Lord’s greatest secret locked up inside your mind. He would like it back.”

“B-but giving you the memory will not erase the knowledge from my mind. You would have to _o-obliviate_ me…”

Harry frowned. _Obliviate_ was an advanced charm that was very difficult to master. If they used it on their professor incorrectly, they could do irreparable damage to his mind.

“Don’t be silly, professor,” Henry said. “We obviously don’t have the skill necessary for that spell. The Dark Lord is feeling merciful. You gave us the recipe, and if you give us the memory he will let you live. But if you ever reveal his secret to Dumbledore he will kill you.”

Slughorn’s eyes narrowed. “Why would he be willing to take a chance like that on a man like me? He was a Slytherin, just as I am. One of the first rules of Slytherin is self preservation. Even you must know this, Henry.”

Henry opened his mouth to respond, but found himself staring at a wand pointed between his eyes. Their professor had managed to hide it up his sleeve while writing the potions recipe for them. Harry sighed and lowered his wand as his brother was now the one with his hands raised in supplication.

“Professor,” Harry said in quite a different tone. “We apologize for all of this. But we really need that memory. But not for Voldemort. We are trying to stop him, and we can’t do that unless we can get rid of all of the horcruxes.”

Slughorn paled at the mention of the man’s name, but looked between them with confusion now. “You broke into my quarters, held me at wand-point, and threatened me for _Dumbledore_!?” he asked incredulously.

They nodded, slightly ashamed of themselves when it came right down to it.

“And you know about the horcruxes already, so why has Albus been badgering me so determinedly for that memory?”

“He said something about knowing the depth of Voldemort’s depravity concerning the horcruxes,” Henry said.

Slughorn lowered his wand and shook his head as he sat in his chair by the fire again. “Seven. Tell him seven. Because it’s the most magical number.”

The twins paled, putting the facts together. “He made _seven_?” Harry asked in horror.

“Made seven horcruxes, perhaps. But also maybe just split his soul into seven pieces, counting the one still inside of himself,” Slughorn answered. He eyed the parchment clutched in Harry’s hand. “What about that potion recipe, then?”

“Dumbledore was just curious what the Dark Lord wanted from you, since he kept badgering you. Harry just guessed it was a potion,” Henry admitted.

“It’s a useless recipe. I suppose a potions master might be capable of altering the ingredients to make it work, but it would take years!”

“What does it do?” Harry asked, glancing through the list of ingredients. Fairy wings? Angel feathers? Did such things ever even exist?

“That’s just it, I don’t know,” Slughorn said in exasperation. “Some of the ingredients are similar to the polyjuice potion, which allows someone to change into someone else for one hour. But those mythical ingredients have no known properties. I have no idea how they would react with the familiar ingredients.” He summoned a glass and a bottle from a cabinet across the room and poured himself a hefty dose of something. “Oh, just go away. I’ve had quite enough of you for one night. I knew you were up to something, always trying to single me out and corner me. I’m just glad to know that Lily’s sons aren’t truly working for You-Know-Who.”

The twins moved towards the door and looked at each other sadly. Dumbledore had done it again—had they just asked the professor instead of harassing and stalking him, perhaps this would have been easier.

“We’re really very sorry, Professor,” Henry said softly. “But I promise that we would never do something to make our parents, especially our mum, disappointed in us. We love them even though we never knew them.”

Slughorn’s eyes closed painfully, but he spoke just as they were closing the door behind them. “Lily was a great witch. Perhaps if you prove to me that she would be proud I will reconsider letting you into the Slug Club. This incident does not set a good example.”

They closed the door with a snap and leaned against the walls of the hallway outside with identical sighs of regret.

“Next time Dumbledore asks us to do something, we do it our way from the beginning,” Henry said firmly. “None of this sneaking around or skirting an issue like the Headmaster likes to do.”

Harry nodded his agreement and they walked back up to the common room under the cloak to avoid Filch and Mrs. Norris.

Inside the portrait hole, they removed the cloak and were immediately crushed in a hug by Hermione.

“There you are! I was beginning to think the worst when you never returned from dinner. I wanted to apologize for this morning. Ron, Draco and I had a bit of a fight and I was feeling a little out of sorts. I’m sorry I took it out on you two.”

“It’s all right. I think it worked out for the best. We talked to Slughorn, that’s why we’re so late. We got the memory we needed.”

“That’s good,” Hermione said, smiling happily. “See, you didn’t need my help after all.”

“Actually, I was wondering if you could look at this potion and maybe figure out what it does?” Henry said, showing her the parchment with the recipe on it. “I don’t want to give it to Dumbledore until we know what it’s for.”

“Sure, I can try anyway.” She glanced over the list of ingredients and her eyebrows rose. “Some of these don’t even exist, but I assume you know that. Maybe they’re code names for more common ingredients…”

“What happened, anyway?” Harry interrupted her analysis of the potion. “When we asked Draco this morning, he said ‘love’ had happened.”

Hermione giggled and hid a smile behind her hand. “Well, Draco sort of asked out Ron on a date next Hogsmeade weekend and Ron didn’t take it very well. He said if he was going to date anyone, it would be me.” She blushed bright red as she admitted that, and seemed a little pleased if the twins were any judges. “And then he accused Draco of trying to steal me from him, which makes no sense at all, and I’m not a possession in the first place. After I told him that, everything sort of fell apart. Now Draco is sulking and Ron is pretending that nothing happened, and I’m just sort of stuck in the middle of it all.”

“Would you rather that Ron date you or Draco, then?” Henry asked curiously.

She blushed again and looked away. “Oh, well…I think I’m a little young to start dating. I mean, we’re all only thirteen or fourteen. I think once Ron grows up a little more, he might make a nice boyfriend…maybe.” Her face was now one flaming mask as she stared at the floor. “Anyway, good night.”

She ran away into the girl’s dorms and the twins were left alone in the common room again.

“Well at least we know who needs comforting, now,” Harry said optimistically.

Henry just grunted and led the way up to their dorms. And perhaps, he thought to himself, him asking out Ginny tomorrow would distract Ron from his own issues long enough for their friends to return to normal.

-o-0-o-

They sent a message to Dumbledore before breakfast the next morning, and received a reply from McGonagall that he was once more out of the castle.

“Ginny?” Henry tapped the redhead on the shoulder at the end of the meal. He had left his confused brother sitting at the Slytherin table to walk across the room and talk to the girl.

“Oh, Henry.” Ginny blushed cutely and tried her best to look him in the eye, but her shy affection was painfully obvious by how often she looked away.

“I was wondering if you would be my girlfriend. I know we can’t go on Hogsmeade weekends together or anything, but…”

The room around them was already buzzing with the newest gossip as she interrupted him with her answer.

“Yes!” Ginny said quickly, an ecstatic smile on her face. “I would love to. But what about Harry? Won’t he feel left out?”

“Hold that thought,” Henry said. He turned to the table beside Gryffindor and sought out the blonde head of Luna Lovegood. She looked up as though feeling his eyes on her and stood as he walked over. “Er…Luna,” he began.

“It’s all right. I’ll go ask Harry,” she assured him. 

Before he could even blink in surprise she was skipping over to the Slytherin table. Henry squashed his jealousy as she laid a hand on his brother’s shoulder. Harry was looking at him with outright confusion and even a little hurt. Was he wrong…? No, this was necessary for both of them. They needed to dispel the yoke placed around their necks by this bond.

Henry returned to Ginny’s side and spent the rest of the meal sitting with her.

Over at the Slytherin table, Harry found himself in the unusual situation of suddenly having a girlfriend he had never agreed to having. Luna had just waltzed over and announced that they were now dating before sitting beside him and chattering about several imaginary creatures that her father was studying.

“Luna. Luna!” he finally interrupted her.

She cocked her head to the side questioningly.

“Why are we dating? I barely know you.”

“Because Henry is in love with you, and knows you’re also in love with him and can’t admit to himself that that is natural and right considering the nature of the bond between you, so he’s trying to displace your affections onto me and his onto Ginny.”

“Oh.”

Harry spent the rest of the day in a daze, while Henry spent his being glared at by Ron for asking out his only sister. The Weasley twins were merely amused by the whole situation.

That night, Harry found himself dwelling on the kiss he had given his brother over the summer and wondering if it meant more than he had originally thought. Did he love Henry? And what did that mean, if he did? Was he attracted to his own brother? Did he want to spend his life loving and being loved by Henry?

Before he fell asleep, he was forced to realize that the answer to every one of those questions was ‘yes’.

-o-0-o-

By the end of February several things had happened. Ginny got over her hero-worship of the twins and realized that not only were she and Henry not made for each other, but her boyfriend was a little obsessed with watching his brother with Luna Lovegood. Thinking that his affections had moved on from her to the blonde witch, she cut him loose just before Valentine’s Day with a few gentle words. Almost immediately, several other boys who had noticed her because of her relation to the Boys-Who-Lived expressed an interest in her company.

Harry, for his part, simply strove to enjoy Luna’s company until his brother had given up on setting him up with someone else. At least Luna held no illusions about their relationship being anything other than friendship, which was more than he could say for some of the other girls he could be dating. When Henry announced that Ginny had broken up with him, Harry gleefully told Luna that her services as his ‘girlfriend’ were no longer needed. She just smiled and returned to the Ravenclaw table, though she occasionally joined them for meals after that, since they were her only friends.

Henry’s disappointment when he found out about Harry’s decision to end the relationship was nearly palpable. “I thought you two got on well, though.”

“We did. As friends. We never really behaved like an actual couple anyway,” Harry explained.

But Henry wasn’t ready to give up, though a lack of suitable partners for either of them made it hard to try again. He thought maybe a boy or two would work better, but hadn’t decided who yet. Boys who liked boys were a little quieter about their preferences in Hogwarts.

Finally, on the last day of February the Headmaster returned and they sent another note asking for a meeting to which they received an immediate response to come that evening after dinner.

When they entered the Headmaster’s tower, Dumbledore immediately came around his desk and asked, “You got the memory?”

“Not a physical memory, we ended up just asking him,” Harry explained. “Once he knew we knew about the horcruxes, he just told us to tell you ‘seven, because it’s the most magical number’.”

“Seven.” Dumbledore stumbled behind his desk and sat, hard. “I never dreamed of something like this.”

“Slughorn wasn’t sure if that meant Voldemort made seven, or just split his soul seven times, retaining the seventh piece within himself,” Henry added.

The old man nodded several times before murmuring an odd list to himself. “There was the diary, the ring, and Henry, of course. And the locket and the cup, probably. What was the sixth, and is there a seventh? Something belonging to the other Founders?”

The twins looked at one another. A list of horcruxes?

“What’s the ring you mentioned, professor?” Harry asked.

“What? Oh. The ring is what did this to my hand. It belonged to Tom Riddle’s mother’s family and he obtained it sometime before his sixth year. I found it over Christmas and was unable to avoid the curse he placed on it.”

The twins had noticed when they saw the Headmaster again this time, that his entire left arm appeared to be immobile now. His fingers were bone thin and black—they had not seen him move them the whole time they were with him now.

“The diary that was emptied when Tom was reborn was another, and Henry carries another piece of Voldemort’s soul. In addition to this, there are two items that Tom procured while working for Borgin and Burkes after he graduated. The first was a locket that was a family heirloom belonging to his mother that she sold to the shop to get some much needed money. It once belonged to Salazar Slytherin. The second was a golden cup that belonged to Helga Hufflepuff. It is probable that the sixth and hopefully final item belonged to one of the other Founders.”

“But why?” Harry asked. 

“You remember the collection of treasures that Tom kept in the orphanage?” Dumbledore asked tiredly, leaning on his desk with his good hand. “He had a magpie-like tendency to collect treasures from his victims. That is how he obtained the ring, locket, and cup. They would have held significant value only to him, just like the diary.”

Henry frowned and sat in one of the chairs in front of the desk. “Sir, I’ve been wondering something for a while. The Tom Riddle who I spoke to in the diary was sixteen years old. That piece of his soul joined with the bit of Voldemort that was wandering around and their ages sort of averaged out until he was about the same age as Snape.”

Dumbledore nodded, unsure where the boy was going with this.

“But the thing is, the image of Tom that rose out of the diary was much older than sixteen. I’d say he was closer to being in his twenties.”

The Headmaster’s eyes widened. “Think of the memory of your confrontation in the Chamber,” he said, holding his wand to the boy’s temple. Henry did so and watched at the silvery tendril was drawn from him.

The old man immediately placed it in the pensieve and disappeared into it.

“I had wondered about that, too,” Harry said. “It’s not like the diary aged or anything, right?”

“It shouldn’t have. The soul should have been the same age it was when it was made into a horcrux,” Henry answered.

Dumbledore reemerged a moment later and sat in his chair once more. “This is most distressing. It’s almost as if the diary had already absorbed a piece of Tom’s soul.”

“But how?” Harry asked.

“Well, if the diary had been placed near to another horcrux they might react in such a way. The pieces of soul are sentient, after all. They may have decided to combine for mutual survival.”

Harry shook his head. “I hid it in the Room of Requirement. Unless Voldemort hid one of his horcruxes in there…” he paused, remembering the memory of Tom Riddle returning to seek the DADA post. “The real reason he came back that night, to apply for teaching…”

“Think of the memory of you hiding the diary in the Room,” Dumbledore held his wand to the other twin’s temple this time and extracted a new memory. He watched this one in the pensieve several times, following Harry as he placed the diary behind a bust of a past headmaster and placed a wig and a tiara on its head to mark the place. The twins even watched it to see if they might notice the object they were looking for.

“It’s no use,” Dumbledore finally decided. “If there is a horcrux in that room, we might never figure out what it is. But it would have to be close to where the diary was placed to react in such a way. Let’s go look at the room ourselves and see if there is anything different. Clearly Colin Creevey found the diary there, so maybe whatever has changed will still be apparent.

They followed the Headmaster out of the tower and down the corridor to the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. Harry walked past the wall himself to summon up the familiar door that led to the room of hidden objects. Inside, they all split up to search for the bust where the diary had been hidden.

In the end, it was Henry who found it. “Harry, Professor! Over here!” he called into the expansive room.

Together, they studied the small table where the thing had been hidden and Harry snapped his fingers. “The tiara is missing.”

The Headmaster nodded in agreement, though he searched nearby to make sure it hadn’t just fallen.

“But why a tiara?” Henry asked, confused.

Dumbledore led them from the room deep in thought and they almost walked through the ghost of the Grey Lady on their way back to his office.

“Ah!” the old man cried when he saw her. “Dear Lady, your mother had a diadem, correct? Can you tell me what it looked like?”

The Grey Lady paused and stared at them in silence for several long moments. “It was bronze. Pointed in the front like a hawk’s beak and curving around the head on either side.” With that, she drifted away.

“That’s it!” Harry said excitedly, remembering the feel of the thing in his hands. “Who was her mother, Headmaster?”

“Rowena Ravenclaw.”

They entered the office and returned to their seats and drank the tea that the professor summoned for them.

“So three have been destroyed, and we know what the others are. The ring, diadem, and diary are gone. Only Henry’s piece, the locket, and the cup remain.”

“Professor,” Harry said hesitantly, sipping his tea and avoiding his brother’s gaze. “How do you destroy a horcrux?”

Dumbledore glanced briefly at Henry before answering. He pulled the diary from his desk and placed a silver ring with a large black stone on top of it. The stone had a symbol of a circle inside a triangle with a vertical line drawn through them. It was also pockmarked as though it had been dipped in acid. “The diary was absorbed, as was the diadem. The ring, I poured basilisk venom over. That and a spell called fiendfyre are the only things known to work.”

Henry’s brow furrowed, even as Harry asked, “And what about the piece in Henry?”

Their professor closed his eyes and set down his teacup with a soft clink. “I am afraid the only remedy I know of is death.”

The older twin stood and left the office. Harry apologized and bade the Headmaster goodnight before following. He trailed Henry all the way back to the common room and found his brother standing outside the Fat Lady’s portrait, staring up at the ceiling with a lost expression.

“We’ll find another way,” Harry said firmly.

Henry barely even turned his head to glance at him. “How? Have me poison myself with basilisk venom? Set me on fire? Kill me and bring me back to life?”

“I don’t know, but we will.” Harry walked up in front of his brother and placed his hands on either side of his brother’s body in a physical cage. “I won’t lose you,” he whispered fiercely, protectively.

His brother grimaced and looked away, the glimmer in his eyes showing he was close to tears. Something told him they were having two conversations at once. “Don’t, Harry. It will never work.”

“Bullshit,” Harry snapped, forcing his brother’s gaze back to his own with a firm hand. “ _I love you_ , do you hear me, Henry Jareth Potter? I love you and _no one_ is going to take you from me. Not ever.”

Henry made a slight keening noise in the back of his throat as he tried to resist temptation for just a moment longer. “Why?”

“Because I can’t stop. I don’t know why, Hen, but this is meant to be. And I’m tired of running from it. Aren’t you?”

He just nodded and didn’t pull away when Harry’s lips descended on his own. The kiss was bittersweet with the taste of Henry’s tears mingling on their lips. Harry licked the seam of his brother’s lips and explored the cavern beyond when Hen’s slight gasp invited him to. Their tongues stroked each other awkwardly, and their noses seemed to inevitably get in the way, but it was their first true kiss and they both cherished it even as the proper, social conscious parts of them reviled it.

When they broke apart, Harry leaned his head against his brother’s and smirked smugly.

“Shut it, you,” Henry whispered hoarsely.

“No more pushing me away or denying yourself,” Harry said firmly.

Henry gulped, but nodded shyly.

“Good.” Harry stole another kiss before leaving his brother wanting against the wall to enter the common room once more.

That night as they slept in the same bed, they took more than comfort and warmth from being in one another’s arms. As Henry snuggled into his brother’s embrace, he whispered, “I love you too, Harry.”

“I know,” Harry answered, his arms tightening. “I never had any doubt about that.”

-o-0-o-


	27. Developments

The next day, of course, the twins had no idea how to go about telling their friends about their new relationship. Admitting that you were dating your own brother wasn’t exactly something most people would take calmly.

In the end they just cornered everyone one at a time and confessed.

“So…we’re dating now,” Harry told Hermione in the library after lunch.

She looked up from the book she was referencing and looked between them in confusion for a moment before laughing. “Very funny.”

“It’s not a joke,” Henry responded with a wince. They raised their joined hands above the table where she could see and smiled sheepishly at her.

“It’s the soul bond,” Harry said. “We tried not to, but it just didn’t work.”

A slew of emotions passed over their muggleborn friend’s face. Disgust, fascination, worry, and fear being the most easily recognized.

“But, how are you going to make this work? You’re brothers. _Twin brothers_. That’s almost like…like…” She blushed furiously as she realized what she was thinking. They were only thirteen, for Merlin’s sake!

But not for long, she thought to herself. How long until they’re…

Turning pale, Hermione stood and gathered her things to leave.

“Mione, I…” Harry tried, but she interrupted him gently.

“It’s not that I can’t accept it, I just need a little time,” she assured them. “It’s just so…strange.”

They nodded sadly and let her leave.

Surprisingly, Draco took it the best. He just shrugged and said, “I’m a pureblood. Do you have any idea how closely related my grandparents were? And we’ve married into the Black family at least once before, and my mother is a Black. This is almost normal to me.”

They both dreaded telling Ron, and in the end it was the redhead who confronted them.

“Hey, why is Hermione acting so weird around you two? And Draco always seems to be amused.”

“Well…” Henry began. “You know how we’re soul-bonded, right?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, we realized that we’re only attracted to each other and now we’re dating,” Harry finished in a rush.

None of them were sure, afterwards, who was more surprised when Ron paused with a very thoughtful look on his face and then suddenly punched Henry in the jaw. “That’s for leading on my sister, you jerk!” he cried. Then he helped his friend off of the floor and escorted him to the hospital wing so Madam Pomfrey could mend his jaw.

Hermione and Ron got over it quickly, of course, but Sirius and Remus were another matter entirely. There was no way they could keep it secret from them when they were going to be spending the summer with Sirius—and Remus was his best friend! And they respected the two men too much after all the time they had spent together practicing defense spells. By the end of March, it was apparent that their adult friends were beginning to catch on that something was up.

They entered the Defense classroom and greeted Padfoot and Moony warmly. The animagus had them do some warm-up stretches while the professor placed several protective wards around the room and on the objects inside.

“Right,” Remus said when they were finished. “Tonight we’re going to have you duel each other. You’re both at a pretty equal level, so you should have a good bout and a bit of a challenge trying to beat each other.”

The twins looked at each other dubiously. Since they had gotten together, the bond between them had strengthened to the point where they were in each other’s head practically 24/7. Most of the time, only a thin barrier separated their thoughts and feelings from one another, and it was fragile. There was no way they would be able to cast a spell against the other without them knowing it.

Remus just smiled at them and pushed them together so they were standing back to back. As he was stepping away, he suddenly froze and frowned at them.

“Moony?” Harry asked with worry.

“When did it happen?” Remus asked sharply.

“Remus, what’s…” Sirius started to ask and then noticed how agitated his friend had become. “Moony…”

“When did what happen?” Henry asked at the same time.

“When did you give in to your attraction to one another?”

They froze and stepped back from their angry professor, while Sirius stepped between his friend and them. 

“Moony, stop this.”

Remus snarled—it was quite uncharacteristic to see their favorite professor like this. “They smell like mates, Padfoot!”

Sirius looked over his shoulder at them in surprise, while the twins paled. Smell? How on earth could someone smell that they were together?

“I-it happened a month ago,” Harry whispered. “We tried, really we did.”

“But how can you stop your soul from feeling?” Henry asked.

Remus’ shoulders dropped and he turned away with a sigh.

“How could you possibly tell that by smelling us?” Harry asked, seeing that they were out of the woods for now.

The Marauders stiffened and Sirius gave Remus a very pointed look. “I’m surprised we haven’t had to tell them before this, Remy.”

Their professor sighed and looked around the room, determined to avoid their eyes. “I’m a werewolf.”

Henry immediately glanced out the window to look at the moon.

“Don’t worry,” Remus smiled at them, his eyes glowing a slight golden color now that they knew to look for it. “The full moon is tomorrow. That’s why I was able to smell you so clearly. It normally isn’t this strong.”

“Boys, you haven’t…” Sirius trailed off delicately and the twins giggled as Remus rolled his eyes.

“No, Siri, they haven’t,” Remus said firmly. The twins blushed hotly as they realized that their honorary uncle would be able to smell it on them when they had sex near a full moon.

“Oh, good.” Sirius nodded several times, looking extremely awkward. “To be honest, I’ve been expecting this since you told us about the soul bond. I understand that there’s not much you can do to fight it. And you’ll be much happier if you don’t.” He held open his arms with a grin and the twins gratefully accepted the hug.

“Right, about that duel,” Moony said pointedly.

“About it,” Harry said. “We wouldn’t be able to land any hits on each other. Not only because we can’t block our thoughts from each other anymore, but because we can’t hurt each other either. At least not physically.”

“Then how about a duel against both of us?” Sirius suggested, waggling his eyebrows at his best friend.

“Padfoot, I really don’t think…”

“Oh, come on, Professor!” Harry wheedled.

“This close to a full moon, I don’t know if I should…”

“Don’t be silly, Moony. You only reacted that way because the wolf in you is the dominant in our pack.” Sirius winked at the twins. “Don’t be surprised if he acts like that when you two get more serious.”

Remus blushed, but explained anyway when the twins gave him confused looks. “In a true wolf pack, only the alphas are allowed to breed. They are the strongest, oldest, and wisest and therefore will make the next generation stronger.”

“Oh,” Henry said softly.

“Are we really a pack, Remus?” Harry asked hopefully.

“Well, Moony seems to think so,” their professor said, referring to his wolf half.

“It would be wicked if we could be animagi like Sirius and our dad,” Harry said wistfully.

Sirius smiled and rubbed his hair. “I could try teaching you. But some other time. For now, we duel!”

The twins were trounced by their elders, which was to be expected. But it was a near thing.

-o-0-o-

On the first of April, Hermione waylaid them on their way to lunch, a roll of parchment clutched in her hand.

“I figured out the potion!” she exclaimed when they stopped to listen to her.

Henry led her into a nearby unused classroom and threw up some privacy wards that Remus had shown them.

“So, what does it do?” Harry asked once they were safely hidden away where no one could hear.

“It changes your magical signature to match that of a donor. It’s a lot like the Polyjuice Potion—you just add a hair from the intended person and voila, your magic will look the same as theirs.”

“But why would Voldemort want something like that? Just to pin things done by Death Eaters on someone else?” Harry asked.

Hermione shook her head. “It wouldn’t work like that anyway. When your magical signature changes, so does your compatibility with a wand. You would have to have the donor’s wand on hand to cast anything, or at least something similar to it.”

“Then it really doesn’t make sense for Voldemort to want it,” Harry said.

“Can you make it?” Henry asked, “I know you said that some of the ingredients didn’t exist when we first showed it to you…”

“Oh! I forgot to tell you, I already made some. Most of the ingredients were just archaic names for modern ingredients. I only had trouble with a couple of rare items.”

“Wait, you _made_ some?” Henry asked.

“Of course! I had to be sure the recipe actually worked, didn’t I? That’s how I know that your wand won’t work once you’ve taken it.”

“Whose hair did you use? And when?” Henry asked.

“Ron’s. And I only took a very small dose, so it only lasted about an hour.” She finally noticed the incredulous looks the twins were giving her. “I was _fine_. There was nothing in the potion that would have had dangerous side effects. It’s actually a rather stable potion compared to most of the things we’ve worked on in classes.”

“But I still don’t understand why Voldemort would want it so badly as to kill Slughorn for it,” Harry said.

“Wait, what?” Hermione asked.

They quickly told her about their vision of the Death Eater meeting where Voldemort had claimed only one more person needed to die before they could take over everything.

“We thought it was Slughorn, because Voldemort has been hounding him for this potion. But it doesn’t make sense,” Henry admitted.

“No. It’s more likely to be the Minister or Dumbledore,” Hermione said.

“How is the Ministry protected?” Harry asked. The others shrugged.

“It seems like practically anyone could get in to see the Minister or Dumbledore. I don’t know what stops Voldemort from getting to them in the first place.” Henry sighed.

“Well, there’s no use speculating. Why don’t you two talk to Dumbledore now that you know what the potion does? He might have a better idea of what it could be used for.” The twins nodded at Hermione’s suggestion.

“Come on, let’s get to lunch. We can send him an owl afterwards,” Harry said.

-o-0-o-

They received yet another response from McGonagall after History that afternoon, telling them that the Headmaster had left the castle for an unspecified period of time again.

“Now what?” Harry asked his brother.

“I suppose we’ll just have to wait until he gets back. He’s the only one we can trust…” Henry trailed off.

“What is it?” 

“Well, we got the recipe from Slughorn, right? We can trust him with what it does. And he’ll have a good idea what Voldemort might use it for.”

“That’s brill, Hen! Let’s go ask him after dinner!”

Unfortunately, they were the only pranksters in the castle who had forgotten that it was April Fool’s Day. 

Sirius was blocking one of the doors into the Great Hall when they arrived for dinner, telling everyone that tonight they had to go through the main doors on the other side. That alone should have tipped them off—none of the doors into the hall were ever blocked off. So when they walked through the double doors at the back of the hall, they only had a split second of surprise as a voice above them called out “RAVENCLAW” and “SLYTHERIN” before a mild compulsion forced Henry and Harry respectively to those tables.

The Weasley twins were also sitting at the Slytherin table when Harry sat and the compulsion lifted. Their expressions shifted between horror, pride, and glee as they watched the students entering the hall and being ‘re-sorted’ to new tables.

It took Harry several minutes of confusion to see that when a person sat at their new table, their robes changed to match their new House, himself included.

“What’s going on?” he asked the twins, rightly assuming that they were the most likely culprits. But they surprised him.

“The Marauders have struck again!” George said with excitement.

“They’ve completely bollixed our own prank of course,” Fred added. “We’ll have to find out how they did it, Gred.”

“Quite right, Forge.” George broke off with a grin of anticipation as Draco Malfoy walked through the doors into the hall, a cry of “HUFFLEPUFF” coming from over his head. The blonde boy promptly walked to the Hufflepuff table and sat down, his robes turning yellow in the lining, cuffs, and hood while the crest changed to the badger. 

His look of utter horror was priceless, made more so when Ron sat down across from him a moment later. Both of their faces turned white, then red. Harry could almost swear they were _blushing_.

“What was your prank, then?” Harry asked the twins when most of the students had entered the hall. Hermione was with Henry at the Ravenclaw table, no surprise there. Meanwhile, Neville had joined the Hufflepuffs and Luna sat down at Harry’s elbow, her robes turning green.

“We arranged the robe color changes,” Fred said. “Except, it was supposed to make everyone’s robe in an entire house change color. Red to green, green to yellow, yellow to blue, and blue to red. The banners would have changed, too. Harmless enough, but worth a good laugh.”

“Compared to this, we’re nothing but amateurs,” George moaned. “I told you I thought I heard someone when we were laying the spells last night, Forge.”

“But there was no one on the map!” Fred protested.

“What map?” Harry asked.

“Nothing, never mind,” George said quickly.

A commotion at the doors distracted Harry from pursuing the question. Professor McGonagall was arguing loudly with Sirius, a hint of her Scottish brogue coming through—she was truly riled.

“You cannot block off entrances into the Great Hall, Sirius Orion Black. Especially not the teacher’s entrance! What if something terrible had happened and we were unable to enter the Great Hall to protect the students?”

“Now, now,” Sirius said, holding up his hands pleadingly. “We made sure to keep an eye on things just in case.”

“WE!?” McGonagall’s fury was worse than that of a lioness protecting a cub. “Who is your accomplice? WHO!? When I find out what you’re up to, I’ll box your…” her rant was interrupted as she walked through the doors and the voice of the Sorting Hat called out “RAVENCLAW” from above.

Titters were heard as the professor was compelled to walk to the blue table and sit down. When she did, her teaching robes promptly turned from deepest black to midnight blue.

Sirius followed a step behind when the hat called out “SLYTHERIN”. He looked like he might be sick to his stomach when he sat at the table beside his godson, but he didn’t look surprised to be there wearing forest green robes.

The other professors entered, looking resigned to their fate as they stepped through the doorway. Sprout went to Gryffindor, Sinistra to Ravenclaw, Burbage to Gryffindor, Vector to Slytherin, Babbling to Hufflepuff, Flitwick (to everyone’s surprise) to Slytherin, and Hagrid to Hufflepuff. Trelawney rarely left her tower, so they didn’t have to deal with her grim portents of doom on her being sorted into (probably) Slytherin and Dumbledore was, of course, absent.

Last, but not least, Moony walked through the doors and placidly joined the Hufflepuffs in his bright yellow robes.

McGonagall had remained silent when the compulsion released her, and she seemed to be struggling between outrage and amusement at her situation. Amusement won, thankfully, but when she tried to stand and return to the teachers’ table as was proper, she got the unfortunate feeling of her bottom being stuck fast to the bench.

Everyone tried to stand after that, but no one could move. Many people were giggling nervously if not outright laughing. Finally, McGonagall sighed and quietly told everyone to tuck in, allowing the feast to start. “The sooner we eat, probably the sooner the spell will be released,” she muttered darkly, shooting glares at Sirius and Remus, though they were sitting in opposite directions from her.

“I would have loved to see which house Dumbledore ended up in,” Harry laughed, filling his plate, “And Snape too, if he were still here.”

“I wonder how they got the hat to cooperate.” Luna mused. “It was ever so difficult to convince it that I belonged in Ravenclaw. I do hope that this isn’t a permanent sorting, don’t you?”

George laughed. “I’m sure it’s just a prank, Luna. It is the first of April, after all.”

She nodded seriously. “You’re right. I’ve heard that the wrackspurts are particularly active on holidays. People are always in such a tizzy that it makes it that much easier for them to muddle the head.”

“I’m sure that’s it,” Fred told her with a fond smile.

Luckily, the magic vanished when the plates disappeared at the end of the feast. Everyone’s bum unstuck from the benches and their robes returned to their proper colors. Henry came over and ruffled his brother’s hair as their friends gathered to head to the tower for the night. “I never would have pegged you for a Slytherin at heart, Harry. Have you been holding back on me?”

He laughed. “The hat said I would do well in any of the houses, but that Slytherin would swallow me whole. I can’t disagree. Perhaps I would have done well in a house of second place Slytherins like the one tonight.”

“Perhaps.” Henry’s eyes shone as he looked at his brother. “And perhaps our spat on the train in first year separated us unnecessarily. I _was_ rather horrible at the time. And so was Draco, though I don’t regret it now.”

“Me either.” Harry grinned at his brother as they entered the Fat Lady’s portrait.

Hermione yawned as she gathered up her books from the corner where she had been studying before dinner. “I’m for bed, I think. Good night!”

“Night!” the twins and Ron bid her farewell.

“I think I’ll try to chat up one of the first years for a game of chess,” Ron decided. “There’s a girl from Wales who’s pretty good. With a little more practice, perhaps I’ll have some competition.”

The twins smiled and waved him away.

“What do you want to do?” Harry asked his brother.

“I think…” Henry gave him a shy glance through his lashes. “I think I would like to head to bed myself. I could use some company.”

Harry stared at him and then blushed furiously. He could only manage a nod in reply. Henry took his hand and led him upstairs to the third year dorms. None of their housemates were trying to sleep yet, but they closed the curtains on Harry’s four-poster and cast the privacy wards that Remus had taught them (though never intended for this purpose when he taught them).

Henry turned shy, then, lying on his back in the middle of the bed while Harry knelt awkwardly beside him.

“What…exactly are we doing, then?” Harry asked.

Henry shrugged uncomfortably. “Not…that. I don’t think I’m ready for that yet.”

“Me neither,” Harry said quickly. It was the truth, though the idea of being with Henry so intimately made his stomach clench.

“Can we just…kiss?” Henry asked, blushing. They had only shared brief pecks on the lips most nights since that first kiss that had changed everything. Between sorting through the bond and explaining to their friends, they hadn’t wanted anything more.

For answer, Harry leaned down and gently pressed his lips against Henry’s. Once. Twice. Three times. Feather-light brushes of one warm mouth against another. He waited until Henry relaxed and threaded the fingers of both hands through his hair and then licked the seam of his brother’s lips. A small gasp was his reward, and he used the advantage to sweep his tongue into Henry’s mouth.

Awkwardly at first, they moved their tongues against one another. The kiss was messy and not terribly pleasurable—they both kept trying to explore the other, getting in each other’s way. Harry started to pull back to take a breath to try again, but Henry bit his lower lip between gentle teeth and it was Harry’s turn to gasp.

This time the kiss was wet and rough, both of them moving more eagerly now. Hen’s hands scratched Harry’s scalp as they moved down to his neck, leaving tingling trails of sensation that made him shiver and arch his body against his brother’s. Their groins met in one firm brush and Harry realized that they were both getting hard. And all they were doing was kissing!

Feeling more daring, Harry reached one hand under his brother’s shirt and firmly stroked his hand up Henry’s side to touch his chest. The firm nub of a nipple brushed his thumb and he pinched it between two fingers, rolling it gently.

Henry arched and gasped into Harry’s mouth, then groaned with his head thrown back. Harry stared at the smooth column of his brother’s neck and couldn’t resist the temptation to lean down and kiss it, then nibble, then lick. Henry’s gasps came hard and fast, making Harry want more of them. He would give Henry more pleasure—as much as he could take. 

With one hand still tweaking a nipple, and his lips devouring a sensitive spot just behind Henry’s ear, Harry’s idle hand reached between them to rub the hardness twitching insistently against him. Henry cried out at the touch, and then started making mewling noises, his hips jerking wildly.

Harry took his lips in one more passionate kiss and then moaned as Henry arched against him, his body stiff with release and a cry of pleasure losing itself where their mouths joined. Henry’s pleasure broke down the thin barrier between their minds and Harry found himself feeling everything his brother was feeling and feeling himself the way Henry felt him. He came violently, thrusting with jerky motions against Henry’s sated form.

They had barely enough energy left to strip off their soiled pants before sleep captured them.

-o-0-o-


	28. Horace Slughorn

Voldemort hissed in displeasure as the Death Eater knelt before him, shaking with fear. Clearly, the assignment had not been completed. Again.

“What is your excuse this time, Flint?” he whispered, allowing none of his exasperation to enter his voice.

“M-My lord… I can’t get close to him! I’m not smart enough or special enough to get into the Slug Club, and…”

“ _CRUCIO_!” Voldemort relished the boy’s screams even as he shook his head on the inside. The poor fool couldn’t even be bothered to think up a new reason for his failure. Finally, he released the curse after several minutes and spoke. “Horace Slughorn is an easily manipulated fool, but he is still a Slytherin. Perhaps you are being too blunt, Flint?”

“N-No, my lord!” Flint protested, as he tried to rise back to his knees. “I’m being sneaky! I keep dropping little hints, little hooks that would work if he would just respond to them. But every time, he just makes some excuse and leaves as quickly as he can!”

Voldemort had the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. Idiots. 

A slight snort of disgust came from his lover, standing beside the throne in the shadows. 

Voldemort sighed. Severus. Now, Severus would have had the recipe months ago, without even speaking to that fool Slughorn.

Flint looked to be within moments of prostrating himself after his outburst. Voldemort spoke again, “We are running out of time, Flint. There are only two more months left to prepare, and Severus will need time to figure out the potion before we strike. I don’t care how you do it, but you will get the recipe! Follow him around under disillusionment spell if you have to!”

“Y-Yes, my lord,” Flint stuttered. “I’ll try, my lord.”

“There is no more ‘trying’, Flint,” Voldemort whispered. “If you have still failed by the next time I summon you, it will mean your death.”

“I will not fail you, my lord!” Flint cried recklessly. “You will have it by the first of May!”

“Good.” Voldemort stroked the arm of his throne and smiled nastily at the boy. “Now get out!”

Flint couldn’t comply fast enough. As soon as the last edge of his robes disappeared around the door, Severus spoke. “Tom, is this really necessary? Aberforth has informed us that Albus is already dying…”

“And I will not give that old fool the satisfaction of a peaceful death!” Voldemort snapped. He stood and turned to face the younger man, advancing on him and pressing him against the side of the throne. 

Severus leaned back with trepidation. “Tom, I…”

“I sense that your reluctance has less to do with our attack on Hogwarts and more to do with your unwillingness to kill the old man,” Voldemort hissed, gripping Severus’ face in one sharp-nailed hand and forcing the other’s eyes to meet his own.

Severus struggled for words as those red eyes bored into his black. “He…he did well by me, my lord. He’s the only reason I was free and able to help you.”

“So now it’s ‘my lord’ instead of ‘Tom’?” Voldemort asked, suddenly releasing him.

“Tom,” Severus amended. “He saved my life. I do not quite owe him a life debt, but it is a near thing.”

“That is why you must be the one to kill him!” Voldemort cried. “Don’t you see, Severus? Until you discharge your debt to him, you will always be holding yourself back. Until you kill him, you are not truly my equal!”

Severus sucked in a breath and bowed his head. “I will be ready to do it when the time comes, Tom. I promise.”

The Dark Lord’s voice suddenly became soft and gentle. “I know it is hard, Severus. But you can do it. For me?”

Severus looked up, his eyes shining. “Yes. _Always_ for you.”

-o-0-o-

When Henry woke up the next morning in his brother’s arms, he was both embarrassed and happy as he remembered what occurred the night before. It had felt good—to touch and to be touched—and he could feel a slight tingle of anticipation at the thought of further explorations.

It was as he snaked an arm over Harry’s side to snuggle closer that Henry realized they were both still naked, pressed crotch to crotch with a typical morning…problem.

The tingle of anticipation turned into a flash of heat that traveled from the tips of his ears down to his toes, leaving his penis thick and engorged. He resisted the temptation to rub against Harry, who was obliviously still asleep, and tried to will the erection away.

Then Harry moaned, arching his hips against him. Henry tensed and bit back a moan in response to the light friction. Was Harry really awake?

But no, a moment later Harry sighed and half rolled over onto his back. Henry took the opportunity to scuttle to the other edge of the bed and think about the situation. It was obvious that if Harry did wake up soon, they could do a little more exploration. He surprised himself by how wanton he was feeling after last night—up until now, Henry had always been the prude, hesitant one when interacting with his brother intimately. Perhaps now the tables could turn?

Henry eyed his brother’s nude body in contemplation. He didn’t know very much about sex—little more than that certain things went certain places and it was supposed to feel good. But he had heard about one thing he could try. And the boy he had heard it from had said it felt good for his partner as well.

Without realizing it, a wolfish grin had appeared on Henry’s face as he burrowed under the covers and crawled head-first towards Harry. A bit of maneuvering got him between his brother’s legs, and just enough light shone through the sheets and blankets for him to see his goal.

-o-0-o-

Harry woke from a sound sleep with the most wonderful warm sensation on his cock. His sleep-addled brain wondered for a moment if he had had an orgasm during the somewhat nice dream he was having, but then the warmth turned to wetness and _moved_. He moaned, reaching a hand under the covers to find his brother’s head bobbing up and down over his crotch.

“H-Hen…what…ah!”

Henry released the cock with a pop and pushed back the covers from them both so he could see Harry’s face. They were both flushed—Harry with arousal and Henry from the heat under the blanket.

“Does it feel good?” Henry asked, suddenly nervous again.

“Yessssss…” Harry hissed, his fingers tangling in Henry’s hair and gently guiding his lips back down to his penis, still standing at attention and weeping slightly at the tip.

Henry began to suck again enthusiastically, finding that he really enjoyed the feeling of the hard length in his mouth. When it brushed the back of his throat when he pushed down too far, he nearly gagged. But Harry’s particularly loud moan made him try to do it again, and again, and again. He figured out that it was possible to control his reflex to gag, and thereby take Harry deeper into his throat.

“Hen....” Harry panted. “Where did you learn…?”

Henry stopped sucking for a moment and began to run his tongue over his brother’s cock instead so that he could answer. “Heard about it in the Slytherin common room. But I’m just making this up as I go along. Is it all right?”

“’s good,” Harry gasped. Henry’s tongue was wiggling in the slit at the tip of his penis, then swirling around the edge over the retracted foreskin. 

Harry couldn’t seem to stop his hips from thrusting up against Henry’s mouth. His brother pushed them down, keeping them there with the weight from his arms and torso. Harry whined in the back of his throat, mindless to everything but the feelings Henry was eliciting in him.

“Come for me, Harry,” Hen whispered. He went back to sucking strongly on his brother’s cock, bobbing up and down as fast as he could manage. He loved the feeling of the hardness sliding in and out over his tongue. He experimented with a slight scrape of his teeth as he pulled up each time, and Harry fell over the edge, his bitter, milky cum filling Henry’s mouth and throat as he continued to suck every last drop out of the quickly softening cock.

Henry kept a tight hold on the thin barrier separating their minds. He could feel the strength of his brother’s emotions from the other side, but was not overwhelmed by them as Harry had been the night before.

“That was amazing,” Harry finally said, tugging on his brother’s hair so that he could steal a kiss. Harry could taste himself in Henry’s mouth and smiled a little at the strange sensation. Another sensation came to his attention as he felt a hardness pressing against his stomach—the source being his brother. “You didn’t…?” he asked, embarrassed.

Henry shook his head, blushing as well. “I held onto the barrier so that I could enjoy watching you come. Would you…?”

Harry smirked and pushed his brother over so that he was lying on his back. “I think I want to try that too.”

Hen gasped at the first contact of Harry’s tongue and lips on his cock, then lost himself in the glide of heat and wet slickness. It was good, not as good as he’d felt when doing it to Harry himself, but more than adequate to relieve the tension coiling in his stomach.

Harry enjoyed the messy wetness of his ministrations, glad that Hen seemed to be enjoying them, but he thought he preferred the full-body torture he’d put his brother through the night before. Giving him pleasure felt good, but simply having the hard cock in his mouth didn’t seem adequate. Harry reached one hand up to fondle Henry’s left nipple, and the other down to roll Hen’s balls between his fingers, lightly squeezing and pulling on them in time to his sucks.

The sounds Hen was soon making made him feel better about this form of sex. And the taste of Henry’s cum made it all worth it. Harry definitely preferred it direct from the source—spurting hot and sticky into his mouth.

-o-0-o-

They kissed languidly for long minutes after that, neither feeling particularly inclined to get up and make their way down for Saturday breakfast. None of their dorm mates attempted to pull apart the still-locked curtains, so either everyone else had the same idea of sleeping in, or they respected the idea too much to intrude.

Finally, though, their growling stomachs forced them to consider getting up.

“We should see if Slughorn is free to talk this afternoon anyway,” Henry reminded Harry when his twin tried to convince him to call a house elf to bring them food.

Grimacing, Harry sat up and poked his head under the curtains at the end of the bed where their trunks were sitting open, clothes strewn about from the day before. He grabbed two pairs of pants from the mess and disappeared back inside. No one had been up and around in the dorm, but it would be distinctly awkward for any of their friends to notice they had slept nude _together_. Though the idea of Ron’s red face would almost make it worth it.

“Here,” he said, handing one pair to his brother. Harry pulled on his own pants and disentangled his discarded pajama bottoms from the bed covers, pulling those on as well.

Now somewhat decently attired, they lowered the wards around their bed and headed to the showers to get clean and change into their robes.

Henry had never realized before how tempting the sound of water being smoothed across skin could be, but restrained himself from joining Harry in the shower beside him.

When they finally made it downstairs and entered the kitchen to beg some food from the house elves, they were surprised to find Ron, Hermione, and Draco already sitting around a small table on the other side of the room.

“Threesomes never work out,” Hermione was saying. “And I’m really not interested in a relationship right now. I’m only fourteen. Maybe in a couple of years, if you both still want me we…we could try.” She turned bright red and stood from the table, preparing to leave, when she saw Harry and Henry standing in the doorway. She stopped short and turned, if possible, even redder, before stumbling out past the twins.

An awkward silence filled the room as Ron and Draco avoided each others’ eyes as well as the twins’. House elves bustled around happily, oblivious to it all, until one noticed them standing in the doorway and squeaked happily as it asked what they wanted.

“Er…just something to eat that’s easy to eat while walking,” Harry said, thinking quickly.

“And some tea?” Henry asked hopefully.

“Right away!” The elf disappeared into the small army of elves and reappeared a moment later with two burrito-shaped things wrapped in wax paper and a hinge-corked glass decanter filled with warm tea. Two wooden cups with holes in the lips for strings to fit through were hanging from the hinge on the container.

“Thanks!” Henry said, taking one wrap and the tea while Harry took the other. “Er…see you around. Draco. Ron.”

Both boys waved their hands noncommittally, and the twins beat a hasty retreat from the heavy atmosphere of the kitchens.

By common consent, they went outside to sit under their favorite tree beside the lake. Henry poured them both cups of tea while Harry opened the wax paper to see what the elves had given them. Inside was a thick, fluffy pancake rolled around several bangers and a scoop of scrambled eggs, sticky maple syrup over it all.

They ate in silence, sipping tea and licking sticky fingers as they soaked up the late morning sunlight as it stole over the castle. When the shadow of the castle covered their comfortable spot, making it too cold to sit outside anymore, they decided to head inside and pursue Horace Slughorn once more.

“Do you think we should bring the potion recipe with us?” Harry wondered out loud. They were slowly making their way up to the fourth floor, where Slughorn’s rooms were. No cold dungeons would do for the fastidious man. 

“Don’t see why we should bother. We know what it does, and he obviously knows the ingredients by heart—he just wrote it down from memory when he gave it to us, remember?”

“True.” Harry nodded. They had entered the fourth floor corridor now, and it looked like Filch had left while in the middle of cleaning up a spell spill. Bright splotches of red, orange, and yellow were still decorating the walls and floor. A half-full bucket of soapy water was sitting against the wall, a mop leaning beside it.

“Reckon Peeves interrupted him before he finished?” Henry asked with a smile.

“I reckon,” Harry agreed. They passed the mess and continued on their way, hoping Slughorn would be in at that time of day.

A noise in the corridor behind them made the twins glance over their shoulders curiously. Henry frowned as he saw that the mop had fallen over, then shrugged. One of their robes must have brushed it when they passed.

“Where did you hide it anyway?” Harry asked as they moved on. Henry gave him a curious look. “The recipe, I mean.”

Henry smirked slyly. “I gave it to Draco for safe-keeping. I’d like to see anyone get through the enchantments on a Malfoy’s trunk.”

They knocked on Slughorn’s door and waited for a few moments before it was opened. Horace Slughorn gave them a nervous, suspicious look and did not offer to let them in.

Harry had almost forgotten that the last time they had been alone with the professor, they had broken into his quarters to blackmail him. Henry, thankfully, had remembered.

“This is just a social visit, Professor,” he reassured the older Slytherin, “No tasks from Dumbledore, or threats, or anything.”

Grimacing Slughorn seemed to waver, glancing at the Dark Marks on their faces before he stepped back from the doorway with a sigh and let them in.

The twins followed. Inside, they would have a conversation that would change their lives.

-o-0-o-

Marcus Flint was having a Very Bad Day. He had been wandering around under his gran’s invisibility cloak—which was old and shoddy, barely able to keep him invisible for more than an hour at a time—when he finally found Slughorn just as he was entering a teacher’s meeting with the rest of the professors. Thinking that he might learn something useful if he spied on them, Flint had decided to take his chances and follow the potions professor into the room. No sooner had he lodged himself into an out-of-the-way corner than the Headmaster had spoken, looking straight at him.

“Mr. Flint, I would suggest that you leave if you do not wish to lose copious points and receive detention until the end of the year when you will hopefully graduate and be taken off of our hands.”

Of course, Flint had beat a hasty retreat, though no one but Dumbledore seemed to be able to see him.

The bloody man could _see through_ invisibility cloaks! Granted, this one was threadbare at best, but still!

So he had spent the rest of the morning loitering around the hallway where Slughorn’s rooms were, hoping to sneak inside his quarters and get his hands on the recipe when the man returned from the meeting.

Unfortunately, Flint’s invisible presence earlier had obviously put the old Slytherin on his guard, for he made sure as he entered his rooms that no one—invisible or not—was following him.

He had almost given up. Not permanently, no. He valued his life too much to completely give up. No, he had been on his way back to the Great Hall to see if lunch was being served yet when the Potter twins came around the corner talking about a potion recipe. He was all set to ignore them until he heard that _it was given to them by Slughorn_. So he followed them and almost blew his cover when he knocked over a mop, though the boys seemed to shrug it off.

Upon hearing where their copy of the potion was hidden, he almost danced with glee and waited for Slughorn to invite them in before ripping off the cloak and making a beeline for the Slytherin dorms. Now here he was, kneeling in front of Draco Malfoy’s trunk and trying to work his way through the protection spells that it was smothered in. It was made harder by the fact that he jumped and broke his concentration every time someone walked by in the hallway outside. There was no excuse for his current position.

Suddenly, he got a brilliant idea. Tapping his wand on the trunk, he was satisfied to see that it was fitted with a standard shrinking charm that reacted to any wand, not just the trunk owner’s. Picking up the now pocket-sized piece of luggage, he hurried out of the room, out of the castle, and then out of the wards all together. With a sharp pop, Marcus Flint disappeared.

-o-0-o-

“Would you like some of my excellent Peruvian coffee, boys?” Slughorn asked, proffering a carafe of dark liquid. “Algernon Longbottom, an old student of mine and an excellent herbologist, brought it back for me from his travels in South America.”

The twins nodded and accepted cups of the fragrant brew, adding copious amounts of cream and sugar to cut the bitter taste.

After sipping from his own cup appreciatively, Slughorn spoke, looking down his nose at the twins with no little amount of chastisement in his eyes. “As much as I appreciate you referring to this as a social visit, boys, I can’t help but think that you are here first and foremost because you need something from me.”

They shifted uncomfortably before Harry spoke. “It’s about the potion. Our friend Hermione—Hermione Granger—figured out the ingredients and brewed some so she could test it…”

“Oh my! Is she all right?” Slughorn asked, setting down his teacup and preparing to go straight to the rescue of one of his brightest pupils.

“Oh, yes, she’s fine!” Henry hastened to assure him. “She tested it days ago, without us even knowing.”

Harry nodded. “We’ve come back to you, because of what it does. When you drink it—like you and Hermione both said, it’s like the Polyjuice potion—it makes your magic have the same signature as the person whose essence you drink. Apparently, it also requires you to have a compatible wand with that person’s magic to perform any spells while it’s still in effect.”

Slughorn frowned, sitting back in his chair again with his cup cradled between large fingers. “That would have a very limited number of uses. Why on earth does the Dark Lord want it so badly…” he mumbled under his breath.

“That’s what we want to know,” Henry admitted. “We were hoping you might have some ideas. Ours are pretty elementary considering the person who so desperately wants it.”

“Yes…” Slughorn murmured, still deep in thought.

The twins had nearly finished their cups of coffee when the Slytherin suddenly gasped, his face turning white. “You said it completely changes your signature to match that of the donor? So much so that you require a compatible wand?”

Harry nodded, confused.

“My boys, my boys,” Slughorn gasped. “With such a thing, you could walk through wards keyed to only one person, so long as you have some of their essence in the potion. At a place like Hogwarts, or the Ministry, you would only need the essence of someone who is allowed in the building. Any of the children of death eaters here could provide such a thing, and I know there are many ministry employees who secretly serve He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.”

The twins blanched. Voldemort was planning a complete takeover, and they had only this single thing to clue them in. The only questions were when, and how. They knew Voldemort didn’t have the potion yet. They were still one step ahead.

“We have to tell Dumbledore!” Harry cried. “But he’s left on another trip with no notification of when he’ll return!”

“I will inform Minerva of our suspicions. She may have a way of contacting him.” Slughorn stood and went to kneel in front of his fireplace. He threw in a handful of floo and called out “Minerva McGonagall!”

The twins curled further into their shared corner of the couch, wondering how on earth they could stop or prevent an attack from happening. It was so obvious now what Voldemort had been planning all along.

“Remember that vision we had earlier this year?” Henry asked quietly. “Voldemort gave all of the Death Eaters an assigned task, one kept secret from everyone but himself and Snape. There must be someone here who is trying to get their hands on the recipe, or on Professor Slughorn. We’ll have to keep an eye on him to see who’s been sniffing around.”

Harry nodded, his mind still whirling with the possibilities and problems now facing them. One thing kept coming back to stare him in the face. “We’re not ready, Hen. We don’t even know who can kill him now. There’s still two horcruxes left to find. There’s you. What are we going to do if the worst happens and he wins this time?”

Slughorn had finished his fire call and overheard the things Harry said. “My boys, I would like to help you. I have many contacts all over the world. I know people who are the best at what they do. I would like to offer that entire network as my aid to you. You have both impressed me this year, despite the rocky start we had when you broke into my quarters. There are not many children who could be branded as you have been and still continue putting one foot in front of the other, much less strive for a better world as you have been. I commend you. And I offer you my services. Should Hogwarts or the Ministry, or both, happen to fall, I will be the first to come knocking on your door.”

“Professor…” Henry breathed.

“Thank you,” Harry said simply. “Amelia Bones may also be offering us her help in the near future. With the two of you, we might actually stand a chance.”

Slughorn smiled. A true, honest smile. For the first time in many years, he felt he had found two gems that simply could not be allowed to escape his collection. He may strive first and foremost for self-preservation, but something told him that the safest place to be if war broke out was right beside the Potter twins.

-o-0-o-

For the second time in as many days, Marcus Flint knelt at the Dark Lord’s feet and trembled with fear.

“Your quick return had better bode well, Flint,” Voldemort hissed. “Well? Do you have it?”

“Yes, my lord,” Flint said, shivering. “A copy of the potion that was procured by the Potter twins is in Draco Malfoy’s trunk.” He pulled the shrunken object from his pocket, hoping he wouldn’t be cursed for what he was about to say. “I could not break the enchantments on it, but I thought…” He gulped, unable to voice an actual opinion in the Dark Lord’s presence.

“Go on,” Voldemort snapped, his patience wearing thin. “You thought…?”

“I t-thought, since Draco’s father is a Death Eater and loyal to you, he might be able to open the trunk without any trouble.”

Voldemort smiled and raised his wand in his right hand—the side of the throne on which Severus stood. His lover understood the gesture and pulled back the sleeve on his left arm, baring the Dark Mark so the Dark Lord could call Lucius Malfoy.

Severus gasped in pain as Voldemort’s wand dug into his arm, sending the Mark writhing and burning on his skin. The Dark Lord reached out his other hand and stroked Severus’ fingers, smiling with ill-concealed pleasure. It was so _satisfying_ to elicit a response from the stoic man. Summoning another of his servants didn’t have to hurt. He could even make it feel pleasurable. But the pain. The pain always made Severus give the best reactions. Voldemort always made sure when he used Severus’ Mark that it hurt as much as possible. Sometimes, when he was calling the entire group of Death Eaters at once, he could even make it bleed.

The doors at the end of the hall opened, admitting the cool, poised figure of Lucius Malfoy. Voldemort released his call on the Mark reluctantly, making Severus sag to his knees with a choked sob and causing Lucius to give an almost imperceptible twitch.

“Luciussss…” Voldemort hissed. The proud man immediately fell to one knee and bowed to the man he called master. The Dark Lord sneered at the display. A pureblood, kneeling to a halfblood, if he but knew it. “Lucius, young Flint here has brought me Draco’s school trunk. There is something in it that I require. Open it.”

“Yes, my lord.” Lucius stood and approached Flint, taking the still-shrunk trunk from him and placing it on the ground. Two taps of his wand and it first expanded and then popped open as though on a spring.

“Very good. _Accio_ potion recipe,” Voldemort whispered, too quietly for anyone but Severus to hear him. A small scroll came flying out of the trunk. He handed it his lover in an offhand manner. “To think, Lucius, that your traitorous son had something I required all this time, yet because of his betrayal could not simply give it to me.”

“I apologize, my lord. He will pay for his transgressions when I see him next.”

“Yesss…he will,” Voldemort said slowly. “Flint, take the trunk and replace it where it was found. You are dismissed.” He waited until Flint had scurried out of the room with the trunk before speaking again. “I believe that he should be killed, Lucius. He is too far gone—there is no hope for redemption.” 

Lucius winced, while Severus stiffened beside him. Father and godfather of the Malfoy whelp—so protective…but how obedient to _him_?

“ _You_ will kill him, Lucius. I will let you know when the time comes.”

“Y-yes, my lord.”

Voldemort waves his hand indolently. “Be gone.”

As soon as he was gone, Severus spoke. “My lord, Draco is just a boy, you can’t hold him to account…”

“ _Crucio_!” The delightful screams of his lover echoed around the room. Voldemort kept the spell on a tad too long and tutted to see the streams of blood leaking from Severus’ eyes, nose, and mouth.

“T-Tom…” Severus whispered.

“Best get yourself looked at, love,” Voldemort said gently, leaning down the pat the younger man’s cheek.

He walked from the room without a backward glance.

-o-0-o-

Draco returned to his dormitory before lunch to change his shirt. One of the Gryffindors had managed to stain one of his cuffs. It certainly wasn’t his fault there was jam there!

He entered the room and walked to his bed out of habit, only to stop and stare in shock and horror.

Running out into the common room, he screeched, “WHERE’S MY TRUNK!”

Several students who knew his fastidious habits snickered, while his dorm mates outright laughed. Suspecting a prank at his expense, he drew his wand and prepared to hex the culprit into their seventh year.

Harry and Henry came through the sliding wall at that moment and quickly heard the whole story.

“Are you sure it isn’t just hidden in the dorm somewhere?” Harry asked reasonably, trying to calm down both Hen and Draco, who were being the suspicious Slytherins that they were.

They all went back up to the dorm and there, sitting at the end of Draco’s bed as though it had never left, was the trunk.

“You see?” Harry said, trying not to laugh. “Maybe you just hallucinated that it had gone because of the horror of having jam on your cuff.”

Draco just glared at him and rummaged through the things in his trunk to find a clean shirt.

“I’ll be in the library if anyone needs me,” he sniffed haughtily after he had changed.

The twins managed to wait until he left before howling with laughter. Unfortunately, their blond friend still heard them and swore revenge on anyone who had laughed at his predicament.

-o-0-o-


	29. Preparations

Severus Snape stood in his private potions lab in Malfoy Manor, hands shaking as he smoothed out the scroll of paper containing the most important potion he had ever attempted to brew. The neatly penned notes of his former pupil filled the margins, the list of ingredients and instructions in the middle clear and easy to read. He scanned the recipe and couldn’t quite contain the proud half-smile that escaped him. Hermione Granger would have been a worthy potions apprentice.

A note at the bottom, written in a bold hand, caught his attention. _**WARNING: The change in magical signature may make the drinker’s current wand incompatible.**_

He stood there beside the work table, staring at that one sentence, for what seemed an eternity. He thought of all the students he had taught for the past decade. He thought of a bushy-haired witch who might just surpass him in skill if he could get her to truly apply herself. He thought of a man who had been more of a father to him than Tobias Snape ever could be. He thought of Lily’s sons, branded for life because of _him_.

He thought of the tremor in his hands that hadn’t left since Tom nearly _crucio_ ed him to death.

Resolutely, he raised his wand and erased the warning.

Then he entered his store of ingredients and prepared to brew.

-o-0-o-

Minerva McGonagall was as nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs. She had not been able to get in touch with Dumbledore, since he had not told her where he was going or for how long he would be gone. The news from Horace had greatly disturbed her—the Potter twins were two for two when it came to end-of-year disasters. Now, it looked like this year might be everyone’s last.

With no news from the Headmaster about what she should do when faced with an attack by Voldemort, she had instead contacted the Ministry and the Order of the Phoenix. Specifically, she had gotten in contact with Amelia Bones and Arthur and Molly Weasley. The DMLE had placed Aurors under disillusionment spells around the school and pulled back all their reserves from everything but the most important cases. Should Voldemort attack, they would be at Hogwarts within minutes.

Surprisingly, after only a few days with the new guards on the school, the Weasley twins had come to Minerva and soberly informed her of several passages into the school that she had been unaware of. They told her that if there were Aurors stationed in Hogwarts for a reason, they needed to be able to protect all the entrances.

She still wasn’t sure how they knew the Aurors were there. No one could see them unless they _knew_ they were there, after all. She suspected it might have something to do with a map she had heard rumors of over the years.

As for the Order, Molly Weasley was gathering together the old crowd—Minerva’s status as the Deputy Headmistress meant that she couldn’t spend the needed time contacting everyone and arranging for a meeting. They had agreed upon a date and time to meet at Hogwarts instead, but that was more than a week away. She just hoped Dumbledore would be back by then.

The only thing left to do now was sit back and wait. The staff was informed, the Ministry and the Order were preparing; she could only wait. 

Her thoughts strayed to young Harry and Henry Potter. They weren’t ready to face Voldemort yet—that was one thing that everyone agreed upon—but she had spoken to Remus and Sirius about that already.

-o-0-o-

“Faster!” Remus snapped, shooting off multiple stinging hexes towards Harry.

Harry twisted to stand behind Henry, using his brother as a physical and magical shield as he flung curses and hexes back at their professor.

“Stop hiding and _fight_!” Remus yelled, switching to less benign spells. A _reducto_ curse shattered Henry’s shield, pushing both boys back until they thumped soundly into the padded wall.

“Enough!” Sirius called from where he was sitting in a protected corner, observing the duel.

The boys stood stiffly, rubbing the new bruises this bout had given them. Remus lowered his wand and took a deep breath, pacing back and forth across the room.

“You’re pushing them too hard, Moony,” Sirius chided his old friend.

“I have no choice,” Remus choked out.

All four of them looked pained at that, but no one could contest the truth of it. They needed all the help they could get.

“Then perhaps you’re going about this the wrong way,” Sirius suggested after a moment.

Remus threw up his hands and studied the twins as though they couldn’t hear the conversation. “I don’t see how. Harry is better at attacking, Henry is better at defense. If they fight like this, they at least stand some chance of surviving.”

“You’re forgetting that their real strength lies in each other,” Sirius said softly. He turned to address the twins. “Has anyone ever told you about symbiotic spells?”

They both frowned and shook their heads. Remus’ head came up and he looked at Sirius thoughtfully. 

“You think they could learn?” he asked.

Sirius nodded. “They’re soul bonded. That, and they’re twins as well. Their magic couldn’t get more compatible. It’s just a matter of having the time to learn, and us being able to teach them the spells.”

Remus shook his head, seeming at a loss. “You know we only ever managed that one spell between us,” he reminded his friend. “And you and James were as close as brothers and still your magic couldn’t mesh.”

“I repeat,” Sirius said, tapping Remus on the forehead with his knuckles, “soul-bonded. Twins.”

“What are symbiotic spells, then?” Harry asked. 

“They’re a special category of spells that almost no one can master, because they require two casters. Even worse, your magic has to work together to produce the spell. They’re twice as strong for twice the magic, but it’s incredibly rare to find two people whose magical signatures are that close.”

Henry frowned at the explanation. Something about this kind of magic was niggling at the back of his mind.

“And you and Remus can cast one of these spells?” Harry asked, looking between their godfather and his best friend. “Will you show us?”

Remus waffled. “It’s been so long, I don’t even know if we can do it anymore…”

“Oh, come on, Moony,” Sirius said, barking a laugh. “Just admit that you’re embarrassed about what the spell does.”

Remus turned red and looked away.

“What does it do?” Henry asked, several inappropriate things running through his head.

“You’ll see. Ready, Remus?” Sirius held out his left hand to his friend. Remus took it with his right. Both raised their wand and incanted the spell at the same time. “ _Duo universus_.”

The twins watched in amazement as a visible nimbus of magic appeared around their godfather and professor. Sirius’ magic was a dark blue, while Remus’ was a bright coppery color. The magic struggled for several moments, touching at the edges and combining tendrils into a sparkling blue color. Then, with a nearly audible _snap_ , the magic swarmed together to become a navy sphere dotted with copper stars. The magic faded and Remus stood before them, Sirius nowhere in sight.

“…Professor?” Harry asked. “Where’s Sirius?”

Remus looked quite startled to be there, looking at his hands and down at his body as though not expecting them to be there. “This has never happened before…” he murmured. His head cocked to one side as though he were listening to something, and he laughed. “I think Sirius finally understands why I find this spell so embarrassing.”

The twins exchanged glances. “Yes, but what _happened_?” Henry demanded.

Remus looked sheepish. “This spell combines the two casters into one body. Sirius is up here.” He tapped two fingers on his forehead and got the ‘listening’ look on his face again. “He says that it’s weird in there. Sorry for the confusion, boys, every other time we did this spell, Sirius was the one in control. I wonder why that’s changed…”

The twins’ eyes grew round when they realized the possibilities of sharing a body. “Wicked…” they breathed simultaneously. “Can we try?”

“Sure,” Remus/Sirius said. “Just hang on for a second while I separate us… _duo abscido_.”

The magic-nimbus reformed but separated much faster than it had combined. A moment or two of the light show and both men were standing in front of them again.

“That…was so weird,” Sirius said, holding his head like it might fall off. He turned to stare incredulously at Moony a moment later. “And what was up with you thinking my ass is cute?”

Remus blushed furiously, but ignored the question in favor of directing the twins to join their hands and hold up their wands to try the spell.

“ _Duo universus_ ,” they said together. From the inside of a nimbus of their magic, they were surprised to see that their magic was the same color—only a few shades lighter on Harry’s side. Thinking about it, Harry figured it was because of the Dark Mark. Overall, the sphere that surrounded them was a silvery-white color.

The edges of their magic met several times and bounced back a little farther each time. Both of them concentrated harder, but it only seemed to make it worse. Within moments, the sphere of energy had dissipated completely, leaving them both still standing there.

“It might take some practice,” Remus told them, smiling a little at their crestfallen looks.

“Were you working together?” Sirius asked, choosing to rest his questions about Remus’ thoughts while they had been joined.

“What do you mean?” Harry asked, frowning.

“I mean…” he struggled for words for a moment, “Were you using your soul-bonded connection to its fullest? Or were you acting as separate individuals?”

Comprehension dawned on their faces. Sirius chuckled along with Remus.

Simultaneously, Harry and Henry dropped the thin wall between their minds. A flood of _other_ emotions and thoughts filled each of them. Their minds connected and they communicated their intention to try the spell again. It wasn’t so much words that passed between them as a convoluted collection of pictures, sounds, scents, feelings, and ideas.

“ _Duo universus_ ,” they said with one voice. It was an eerie moment for their teachers—it was like the boys’ voices had joined and magnified.

The nimbus formed and snapped together instantly, turning a brilliant silver and dissipating. Standing in the middle of the defense classroom was one Potter twin—but he was neither Harry nor Henry.

Both Remus and Sirius stared at the boy in front of them in shock. He _looked_ like both of the twins, but there was a single scar in the middle of his forehead instead of on the cheek. Instead, there was a white Dark Mark on one cheek and a black one on the other.

The mind of Harry/Henry was whirling. The part of Harry that acted with determination and the part of Henry that was cautious were both in control of their new body. In the same way, the part of Harry that thought things through and the part of Henry that sought self preservation were in control of their thoughts and decisions.

The only problem they could see were the two wands they held—one in each hand. Experimentally, they tried to cast a spell with each one. The simple _lumos_ spell sparked and fizzed when cast from both.

Frowning, Harry/Henry broke the symbiotic spell, “ _Duo abscido_.”

“That was amazing,” Remus breathed when they had separated again.

“Your wands didn’t work?” Sirius asked.

Henry shook his head. “It seems like when we’re combined together like that, our wands aren’t as compatible.” The thought that had been niggling at the back of his mind suddenly made itself known once more. His eyes lit up. “Hang on! I’m gonna go get something. I’ll be right back.”

Harry, still sharing Henry’s thoughts, grinned excitedly. “I always wondered what we were going to use that for!”

Sirius and Remus waited expectantly for a few minutes, talking to Harry about what it felt like to share a skin so completely with his brother. It turned out, their transformation was the more complete version of the spell. The two men could only share abilities and thoughts with whoever the dominant participant was.

Henry came running back in a moment later, a long, thin box held in his hands. “When we got our wands from Ollivander, this wand reacted only when both of us were touching it. It’s a little awkward to cast a spell with two people holding it—but when we’re joined together like that…”

“Cast the spell one more time and see if it works,” Sirius urged. “After that, we should take a break for the day. In my experience, these spells may seem fairly easy once you know how to do it, but it takes a lot of energy to start and maintain.”

The twins nodded and joined together once more. Their combined body reached out and picked up the holly and phoenix wand. Immediately, gold and silver sparks shot from the end. “ _Lumos_!” they said. A blindingly bright light shot from the tip of the wand and hovered above their heads. It was though they had cast the more powerful version of the charm, _lumos maximos_.

“Wow,” Remus said.

“No kidding,” Sirius whispered.

The twins separated and put the holly wand back in its box.

“Tomorrow,” Sirius told them firmly, “We will begin teaching you the rest of the symbiotic spells and training you to duel with this wand. It looks like you’ll be more powerful when you use it.”

“I think we’ll need a new name for when you’re joined together,” Remus added. “What do you think?”

The twins looked at each other for a long moment before Harry spoke. “Call us Lylas. After mum.”

Remus nodded with a sad smile and sent them on their way. He was unprepared for Sirius to shoot a locking and silencing spell at the door once they had left.

“…Sirius?”

Sirius advanced on him, a dark look in his eyes that Remus couldn’t quite place. It was nowhere near a full moon, so Moony didn’t feel a need to prevent the invasion of his personal space. Instead, he backed up and continued to do so as Sirius advanced. Soon, he was pressed against the edge of his own desk with Sirius standing and hair’s breadth away.

“I saw more in your thoughts that just a liking for my bum, Remus,” Sirius finally said.

Remus paled and looked away from the silver-blue eyes of his best friend. “Did you?” He didn’t know what else to say.

“Yes. Why didn’t you tell me?” Sirius sounded hurt, now.

“I-I…”

“Did you think I would push you away?”

Remus finally looked back up at Sirius’ face, only to see a pain and longing there that equaled his own. “Siri…”

The door stayed locked for a long, long time.

-o-0-o-

When Albus Dumbledore finally returned to Hogwarts, he barely made it through the great front doors before a cavalcade of people descended on him. He had noted the Aurors standing disillusioned out on the grounds, and was just glad that he didn’t have to hunt down the people who would know what was going on.

All four Heads of House arrayed themselves around him, as well as Molly Weasley, Alastor Moody, Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, and Amelia Bones. Unable to understand a word of the babble that met him, he raised his wand and shot some sparks over their heads. They silenced immediately.

“Let’s take this up to my office, shall we?” he suggested mildly.

He was interested to see Amelia and Horace exchanging looks and a nod.

“I’ll fetch the Potter twins, they will need to be there,” Horace said, slipping away before anyone could argue. And Dumbledore _did_ want to argue.

The group traveled to the seventh floor and the Headmaster’s office in near silence, only a few whispers breaking out between the Heads on occasion. Once inside, they all waited a few moments for Horace to reappear, and he finally returned with not two teenagers, but five. Hermione Granger, Ronald Weasley, and Draco Malfoy had joined Harry and Henry Potter on this trip. There were now fifteen people crowding the office, including Dumbledore.

“Horace, really,” Dumbledore said, giving him a benign twinkle from his blue eyes. “Perhaps it might be best if you let me get abreast of the situation before we bring the children into this.”

“These children are the ones who brought this to my attention, Headmaster,” Horace said stiffly, if respectfully. “They have as much right to be here as I do.”

With a sigh, Dumbledore acquiesced, “Very well. Now, Minerva, would you like to tell me why there are Aurors stationed around my school?”

Her eyebrows rose into her hairline—probably at the fact he could see them despite the disillusionment—but she told him the whole tale. A potion that would allow Voldemort and his Death Eaters to walk through the wards as though they belonged here, discovered my Miss Granger. The completed recipe hidden in Mr. Malfoy’s trunk. Aurors stationed everywhere around the school and the rest available to send help at a moment’s notice. The calling together of the Order of the Phoenix, which explained Molly’s presence, seemed to confuse the children. Remus and Sirius informed him that the Potters could perform symbiotic spells, and that they were training them in the usage of them as well as other Defensive magics.

In the end, Dumbledore sighed, feeling the shooting pains from his ruined left arm and hoping that he could protect the school this one last time. The damage was nearing his heart now. He didn’t have much time. Not nearly enough to do everything that needed doing.

Looking up, he caught Mr. Malfoy’s eyes. A foolish thing to entrust the potion recipe to the son of a Death Eater. “Mr. Malfoy, would you be so kind as to fetch the scroll the potion is written on from your trunk? I would like to see it, and I believe I can find a safer place for it than the Slytherin dorms.”

The boy snorted, but turned to leave at once.

Next, Dumbledore addressed Minerva. “You have done well, my dear. And faced more than I ever anticipated when I left on my little jaunt.” He looked at Amelia and Molly in turn. “I am very glad that the DMLE was so receptive to the danger. I am sure the Order will be able to provide some relief as soon as they have gathered once more.”

“Their assistance would be appreciated,” Amelia told him gravely. “And I appreciate you allowing us to stay—we will remain until the children are all safely home for the summer.”

He nodded his head to her, then turned to the next group of people in the room. Remus, Sirius, the Potters, and their two Gryffindor friends. “Symbiotic spells? Perhaps that was the power spoken of in the prophecy. It would stand to reason that whoever the focus of the prophecy is now would be capable of the same.”

He noted the look the twins exchanged, but was interrupted by the return of Mr. Malfoy before he could pursue the thought.

Draco rushed into the room, completely out of breath from running through the halls to return. “It’s gone!” he cried.

“What!?” the children, and no few of the adults in the room asked.

“The recipe, it’s gone!” he said again. “And none of the spells on my trunk were broken or tampered with, so the only one who could have done it was…”

“You, Mr. Malfoy,” Dumbledore said severely. 

“No!” Harry interrupted him. “You said it was missing—your whole trunk—the other day, didn’t you?”

Draco nodded, relieved. “Someone must have taken it out of the castle. The only people who could open it without breaking the enchantments are me and my father. Even mother wouldn’t be able to lift the lid.”

“So someone took it to Voldemort, who had your father open it and remove the scroll, then the same person brought it back and replaced it before anyone but you could notice it was missing,” Henry concluded.

“This is terrible,” Dumbledore said with a sigh. “Ms. Granger, do you think you could duplicate the recipe?”

“Of course,” she sniffed. Walking up to his desk where he was sitting, she asked for ink and parchment, then listed the ingredients and instructions for the potion as though she were copying it from a book.

A very quiet, “Ten points to Gryffindor,” came from Minerva’s direction. Dumbledore frowned at her before studying the still-wet parchment.

“A simple potion,” he murmured. “So simple, and yet so dangerous. Some of the ingredients are tricky, though…” He looked up at Ms. Granger, still standing in front of his desk. “Tell me, my dear. How long do you think it would take to brew enough for thirty or forty people? Enough to last a couple of hours each, I think. The wards will throw them out if they do not belong.”

She very clearly ran some calculations through her head, then said, “Assuming it is Professor Snape doing the brewing, no more than two or three weeks. They will be ready before the leaving feast.”

He nodded, unsurprised. “Not enough time, but time enough.” Raising his voice, he said, “I have something I need to discuss with Harry and Henry, alone. We will hold a teacher’s meeting tomorrow morning to discuss what will be happening before, during, and after the battle that is surely coming. Please, leave us.”

All of the adults filed out of the room, but Hermione, Ronald, and Draco remained.

“ _Just_ Harry and Henry, if you please,” he said sternly.

All five children shook their heads. 

“We told them about the horcruxes,” Harry told him. “They stay.”

Sighing, Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, absently rubbing his good hand over his heart at the frequent stabs of pain he felt there. He didn’t notice the worried looks that the children exchanged.

“I think I have found another,” he announced. “Hidden in a cave where the young Tom Riddle once tortured some of the children he lived with at the orphanage.”

“Can we come with you this time?” Henry asked hopefully.

Dumbledore nodded. “ _Just_ Harry and Henry,” he told the others, more sternly than before. “They will need to see what kind of protections Voldemort uses for his horcruxes.”

The other three reluctantly agreed.

“When do we leave?” Harry asked.

“In two weeks. On Sunday after dinner. You will meet me in the entrance hall. Come alone, and bring your invisibility cloak.”

Taking it for a dismissal, the five teens left the Headmaster’s office to return to their dormitories.

Inside the great circular office, Dumbledore clutched his chest with a gasp. Fawkes glided over to his shoulder and cried three glistening silver tears into the Headmaster’s mouth. The curse was pushed back a slight bit. Enough for him to continue on for a few more weeks. Just a few weeks. Not enough time, but time enough.

-o-0-o-

Voldemort stroked the Dark Mark adorning his sleeping lover’s arm. The skin around Severus’ wrist was still bleeding sluggishly from the bonds he had placed on him when their lovemaking began. The potions master had eventually begged him to stop, then passed out in apparent pain.

Not for the first time, Voldemort wondered when his lover had become so weak. It had never been like this before…had it?

His long fingers continued to slide over the Mark in a gentle rhythm. He was searching. Sifting through the threads that bound each man and woman to him through this brand on their skin. Lately as he called his Death Eaters, he had begun to feel one who wished to come but was unable. One he had thought dead until he had felt their presence through the Mark. Sifting, searching, striving…there!

“ _Imperius_ ,” he hissed angrily. He was unsure if his anger came from the weakness of the man in question or the audacity for someone to put one of his followers under the Unforgivable Curse.

Leaving the bed and his lover behind, he wrapped an open-fronted black robe around his gaunt frame to cover his nakedness, then strode through the halls to one of the rooms provided for the Death Eaters who were supposed to be in Azkaban still.

Opening the door without knocking, he interrupted the Lestrange brothers in the middle of a game of chess.

“Rodolphus, Rabastan. There is someone I need you to find.”

-o-0-o-


	30. The Hook

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **_ WARNING: rimming, anal sex, and handjobs are ahead. These scenes are clearly marked, so skip them if they make you icky. _ **

During the two weeks before the twins were due to leave on the expedition with the Headmaster, they could most often be found in the office of the two Defense Against the Dark Arts professors, learning a series of complex and progressively more illegal spells. They had been excused from classes for the remainder of the term so they could learn them. Though they were still expected to complete their exams. Most of the last two weeks were revision anyway.

“There are twelve symbiotic spells,” Remus lectured. “The first, which you already know, is the spell that combines and separates your bodies. Three of the spells we will teach you should be used only in the most dire of circumstances. They’re referred to as the Deathly Trine. They are considered worse even than the Unforgivables, and all three result in the death of the victim. We will only be teaching them to you, because this type of magic is rare, and you will need to know everything about it to use it effectively.”

Sirius took up the lecture there. “We’ll teach those three spells last. There’s not much time until you leave with the Headmaster, so for today we’ll focus on the first four spells. When you have those, we’ll do the next four. And then we’ll deal with the Deathly Trine separately. With luck, and your hard work, we’ll manage to finish these lessons before the end of the week.”

The twins nodded seriously. Harry asked softly, “What are the first four spells, then? Is there some specific order we have to learn them?”

Remus nodded. “Each spell is more difficult to learn than the one before it. They build upon one another, hence the order of these lessons. The first four are defensive, the three after that are offensive, one is in a class of its own, and the final three are the Trine. So let’s simply begin.

“The first spell is _tectum erexi_. It raises a shield that can either protect you, or can be set to protect another person or object. Just like _protego_ , it will break after several hits from hard-hitting spells like _reducto_ or _confringo_. But unlike a normal shield spell, it blocks most other hexes and curses without weakening. The theory is that the increased strength of the spell allows it to leech energy from the spells that strike it, in effect making it nearly impossible to dispel. Why don’t you try to cast it?”

Harry and Henry nodded and easily combined into Lylas—it was getting easier the more they did it. Gripping the holly wand in their left hand, they cast the new shield spell. “ _Tectum erexi_!” A shimmering sphere of transparent multi-hued magic encased them. It was like being enclosed in a soap bubble. Reaching out a curious hand, Lylas poked the shield and was surprised to find it give and stretch as though it were elastic.

“Wonderful!” Sirius barked. He drew his wand and started casting various low-level hexes at the shield. Lylas looked on with wonder on his face.

“What does it feel like?” Remus asked curiously.

“It’s like…ripples in a pond. The hexes are hitting the surface and then dissipating outwards in concentric rings. I think if there was enough power behind them, the shield would start to drain, but at this level we could stand here all day and not take a single hit.”

“Hmm…” Remus murmured, drawing his own wand. He cast several blasting curses in succession, and the surface of the shield instantly changed. Instead of an elastic, rippling surface, it hardened to defend against the stronger attacks, much like a _protego_ shield would. The rigidity inevitably began to crack under the strain, until the entire shield shattered in a sparkle of multi-hued shards.

“Is it possible for you to control the surface?” Sirius asked, seeing the same thing Remus had. “If you can keep it from becoming rigid, even the blasting curses might have no effect.”

Lylas recast the spell and ‘felt’ along the edges of the spell with his mind. “It should be possible. Try shooting just one at me.”

Sirius obliged, and they all watched in amazement as the spell burrowed into the shield so that it bulged inward, slowed nearly to a standstill, and then bounced back in the same direction it had come from, like a trampoline. Sirius flung himself aside as the spell was returned with twice the force with which he had sent it.

“Useful,” Remus told Lylas. “But be careful not to try that if someone sends multiples of the same spell at you.”

“Why?” Lylas asked.

“You saw how it burrowed through the shield first. If you put enough force behind a push like that, the shield wouldn’t shatter harmlessly like it did the first time I sent multiples. It would implode, and the magic would backlash on the person inside.”

Lylas winced. “That would be bad.”

Remus’ lips twitched. “Let’s try the next one, shall we? The incantation is _praesidium patronum_. Like the shield spell, it’s a more powerful version of a more common spell, the Patronus. The only difference between the two in this case, is that _praesidium patronum_ doesn’t dissipate when you lose focus or when the Patronus has repelled your target. Both require you to select and hold onto a happy memory to cast the spell. But once cast, you can let go and the Patronus will remain and guard you or someone else of your choice. Why don’t you try?”

Lylas tried to come up with a single happy memory, but had trouble finding one that both Harry and Henry could connect with. They knew instinctively that if the memory was not happy for them both, then the spell wouldn’t work at all. And they also knew from hearing Remus talk about the regular Patronus spell that just any happy memory wouldn’t do—it needed to be special.

Finally, they settled on a memory from that morning, still fresh and sweet in their memories. It was simple—the experience of waking up in one another’s arms, no barriers between their minds, no clothes barring the touch of skin on skin, and the sleep-warm flesh of a beloved person entwined with their own.

“ _Praesidium patronum_!” A cloudy mist of white vapor exploded from their wand and swept around them, then dissipated. Lylas looked at Sirius and Remus with disappointment.

Remus smiled gently. “I would have been surprised if you’d gotten this one on your first try. Even a regular Patronus requires a great deal of practice to succeed. Still, that was a wonderful attempt. I think the added power levels will help you accomplish this faster than you would separately. Try again.

So they tried again. And again. And again. The mist grew less each time they used the memory they had chosen, so Remus suggested they choose a different memory. They chose the memory of their first night together experimenting with the sexual side of their relationship. A figure began to form of the mist, but further practice did not reveal a corporeal Patronus. 

After another hour of attempts, Remus finally called a halt. “Let’s take a break for lunch. You probably aren’t feeling it in that body, but once you separate I’m willing to bet you’ll both be exhausted. Take a few hours to eat and maybe take a nap. And maybe talk when you’re separate and try to think of a better memory.”

Lylas nodded and cast the separation spell, “ _Duo abscido_.” Harry and Henry nearly fell to their knees when they were divided once more. The exhaustion was making their legs shake, and a gnawing hunger was suddenly eating at their bellies.

Sirius barked a laugh and grabbed the twins around the shoulders. “Let’s get you something to eat. Then I order you to nap—I’ll carry you to bed myself if I have to.”

They stumbled down to the Great Hall where the rest of the school was gathering for lunch. They were both so hungry that the sight of all that rich food nearly made them feel ill. Taking it slow, they ate something light to start and slowly worked up to the meatier dishes. 

Hermione, Ron, and Draco settled near them at the Gryffindor table and looked at them with concern.

“You look terrible!” Hermione gasped as soon as she saw them. “What are the Professors doing to you?”

“Pushing us,” Henry answered numbly, lifting a wobbling spoonful of soup to his lips. Every muscle in his body felt like it had been worked to its limit and beyond.

“How many spells have you learned?” Draco asked with curiosity. Growing up as a pureblood, he was familiar with the symbiotic spells.

“Two,” Harry answered shortly, ripping a small piece of bread off a roll and sticking it in his mouth. “But we haven’t gotten the second one to work quite right yet.”

“They’re that hard?” Ron asked, pausing in the middle of his piece of fried chicken to gape at them. The twins closed their eyes, still not ready to eat anything that greasy or covered in spices.

“Yes,” they answered simply.

“We got the first one fairly quickly,” Henry admitted. “But we’ve been at it all morning with the second, and we’re exhausted. I don’t know if we’ll be able to continue this afternoon even if we do take a nap.”

“They’re making you continue?” Hermione asked, aghast. “But, you’re clearly too exhausted to perform anymore magic today! Are they trying to kill you?”

“Don’t be silly,” Harry told her, a glimmer of amusement lighting his tired face. “This is necessary—we agreed to let them set the pace, and we all know there isn’t much time before we’ll need to know these spells. Two weeks is enough time. It has to be.”

“Once we get this second spell, we still have to learn two more today,” Henry sighed. “I think they’re just going to get us to the point of being able to cast each one successfully, then push us over the rest of the time we have left until we can duel with these spells at will.”

No one had anything to say to that, and they all finished eating in near silence, chatting about inconsequential things as the twins recovered their energy. They were yawning hugely by the end of the meal, both of them having eaten twice as much as they would normally.

“Bed, both of you,” Draco told them firmly. “Go to Slytherin—in the state you’re in, taking stairs down is better than expending the energy to go up.”

The twins nodded in agreement and waved feebly to their friends before departing to take their nap.

When they were ensconced in their bed in the Slytherin dorms, Harry spoke before they fell asleep. “About the memory, Hen…”

“Hmm?” Henry asked sleepily, cuddling closer to his brother.

“I think we might have to make a new one,” Harry murmured softly, brushing Henry’s hair away from his face.

Henry blinked his eyes open muzzily and quirked his lips in a very sleepy yet sexy smirk. “When we wake up,” he agreed.

Despite the anticipation singing through their bond, they both fell asleep within moments, unable even to think with how depleted they both were.

**LEMON-o-0-o-LEMON**

Harry woke on his stomach, feeling chilly because of the sudden lack of covers overtop of him. He barely had time to register this fact when he felt hands spreading open the crack of his butt and something wet and hot flicking over his anus.

Moaning, he managed to gasp out, “Hen?”

“Mmm…” came the mumbled response, his brother’s nimble pink tongue circling the tight ring of muscle and pressing against the center insistently. The pressure was delicious, causing Harry to flush from head to toe and squirm against the sheets. In his current position, his quickly growing erection was trapped and aching from the lack of friction.

“Hen!” Harry cried when his brother’s tongue entered him. When a spit-slick finger replaced it moments later, he couldn’t help but gasp in surprise. “H-Hen…I thought you would want to t-try this first,” he managed to stutter.

Henry chuckled deep in his throat as his teeth grazed over Harry’s right butt cheek. The vibration of that laugh went straight to Harry’s cock, and he groaned. 

“I just want to make you feel good, Harry,” Henry murmured, sweeping gentle kisses over the bite marks. His finger was slowly stroking in and out of Harry’s hole, making him feel strangely like he needed to use the bathroom. Then Henry’s tongue was back, pressing quickly in and out of the slightly widened opening, and Harry forgot to do anything but feel. Henry’s tongue was more insistent now, darting in and out and flicking repeatedly against the quivering muscle. Harry could feel himself clenching repeatedly, and knew if either of them were touching his erection, he would be coming at that moment.

“Let me feel you, Harry,” Henry moaned. He changed position slightly, though Harry couldn’t see over his shoulder. Then the finger was back inside him and he realized with a start that there were two this time, scissoring back and forth inside of him, and slowly moving in and out. His anus felt tight and stretched to its limit, but he knew it would need to be even bigger to accommodate his brother. “Open yourself to me,” Henry begged softly, his cheek resting against Harry’s butt cheek as he watched his fingers moving in and out.

Harry released whatever tenuous hold his mind had been keeping on the barrier between them, and they both cried out as sensation swept over them. He could feel Henry’s anticipation, the torture of having to move so slowly and carefully so as not to hurt his brother. He could feel the heat of his own flesh, the tightness as his anus clenched around Henry’s fingers. He could feel the reflection of his own aching _need_ as Henry felt it and combined it with his own and sent it back again.

Henry quickly laved more saliva onto Harry’s hole, and onto his fingers, then pressed them back in again, adding a third. Harry cried out at the pain, feeling his cock deflate slightly from the pressure. Then Henry hit something inside of him, the barest brush of a finger, and he was coming, coming, coming against the sheets without either of them ever having touched his erection.

Gasping, Henry clenched his hand around the base of his own erection as he felt Harry’s pleasure. He didn’t want to come yet. He wanted to come inside of his brother, wanted to feel the hot splash of it filling Harry to the brim.

Harry moaned again, feeling that Henry’s anticipation had skyrocketed. “Please, Hen… do it now!” He pulled himself up to his knees and elbows, spreading his legs to give better access.

Unable to argue, and too far gone to even think of objecting, Henry spat into his hand and stroked his cock to coat it, then pressed the head against Harry’s red and gaping hole. Slowly, as slowly as he could manage, he pressed the head inside, then inched his way in, wincing each time he felt a pang of pain across their bond.

When he was finally fully seated inside of Harry, something—the bond?— _pulsed_. Panting, Henry rocked back, sliding out several inches, then rocked forward again, Harry’s tight hole clenching him and pulling back the already-tight foreskin. At the same time, he could feel the burning friction of his movements from Harry’s perspective, and knew that although he was making Harry feel good, his brother’s erection was withering from the pain.

He couldn’t stop. The delicious slide of skin against skin was too much for him to give up. And there was that something pulsing faster and faster in the background that wouldn’t _let_ him stop. “I’m… sorry!” he gasped, snapping his hips faster. Harry’s anus grew slick with unknown moisture. Henry couldn’t tell if it was simply arousal, or blood, or the body’s natural reaction to having an intrusion there. Whatever it was, he was grateful, for Harry’s emotions and pleasure changed across their bond.

“More!” Harry gasped beneath him. His arms had collapsed, his face turned sideways in the sheets as he kept his hips raised. “Harder…you almost…AH!”

With a particularly hard thrust, Henry felt it. Some small nub of nerves inside of Harry was struck and a jolt of pleasure echoed through them both. Struggling to catch his breath, Henry slowed slightly and adjusted his angle to hit that spot again. He did, and Harry moaned. So he did it again, and again, and again. Harry’s erection returned with a vengeance. Reaching one hand around, Henry stroked it, smoothing pre-come up and down the length and allowing their movements to time his touches.

This couldn’t last much longer. Bending, Henry wrapped his free arm around Harry’s chest and hugged him, never stopping his thrusting or his stroking. He reached across the bond and tentatively touched his brother’s mind, instantly let in.

They became one. Their bodies moved on autopilot, while their minds soared together to new heights.

“I love you, Harry.”

“I love you, Henry.”

They spoke simultaneously, and came together, a nimbus of colored lights sparking behind their closed eyelids.

And the pulsing in the background of their bond _snapped_ into place as the world went dark.

**END LEMON-o-0-o-END LEMON**

When they finally returned to the Defense office, Sirius and Remus were waiting for them. The moment they entered, Remus stood up, frozen, his nose quivering as he scented the air.

“Moony?” Sirius asked, worried.

Remus shook his head. “They are mates now. But the wolf is not bothered.”

“Mates…now?” Sirius asked slowly. He looked at the twins and dawning realization flooded over his face. A dark pink tinge slowly worked its way from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. “Oh.”

“Oh, indeed.” Remus chuckled darkly. “Well, now you have a better memory, why don’t you try the spell?”

Blushing themselves, Harry and Henry cast the first spell, joining together to form Lylas. With the phoenix feather wand in hand, they cast _praesidium patronum_ once more.

With a brilliant flash of purest white, a winged creature took flight around the classroom, flapping silent wings as its head turned in search of something to protect or attack. Lylas held up an arm, and the owl back-winged to land there, buffeting the boy’s head with silver motes of magic.

“An owl?” Sirius asked, surprised.

“Interesting,” Remus murmured. Louder, he said, “We’ll have to try the regular Patronus spell while you’re separate and see what your individual patroni are.”

Lylas was enthralled with the owl. Glowing silver eyes gazed into green, and a sense of something otherworldly slithered down his spine. Blinking, Lylas released the spell and the owl blew away like wisps of smoke.

“Let’s see if you can get the next one,” Remus said. “This is a healing spell, which cleans and binds wounds. This one is slightly different, as it must be chanted three times. The more musical your casting, the better it works. The incantation is _vulnera sanentur_.”

“How can we cast it without having someone to heal?” Lylas asked.

For answer, Remus pointed his wand at Sirius and cast a slashing hex. A long gash appeared on his exposed forearm, and the animagus gasped in pain.

“Remy!” he whined. “That _hurt_!”

Smirking, Remus motioned to the man as though to say, ‘Well? Get to it!’

Raising his wand, Lylas passed it slowly over the wound as Remus had demonstrated, slowly half-speaking and half-singing the spell. “ _Vulnera sanentur_ … _vulnera sanentur_ … _vulnera sanentur_.” With each pass and chant of the spell, first the blood soaked back into the wound, then the flesh began to knit together, then all trace of the wound slowly diminished to a thin pink line of almost-healed skin.

“ _Very_ good,” Remus praised, clapping him on the shoulder. “One more spell to learn, and we’ll let you leave for the day. This one is used for healing the entire body of all ills. It can be draining if you try to heal too much, for instance if someone is on the brink of death, you may kill yourselves trying to heal them with this spell. It takes the energy for the healing first from the caster, and then from the patient. The incantation is _salus corpus_ , and I want you to cast it on me.”

Lylas gaped at him. “On you, Professor? But you’re not hurt, are you?”

Remus smiled gently. “I’m not badly hurt, no. But the full moon was not very long ago, and I’m still feeling the ache in my bones, not to mention the bruises and scrapes I earned romping through the Forbidden Forest with Padfoot. I should be hurt enough for the spell to work, but not so much as to drain you dangerously. After this, you two are going to dinner, and then straight back to bed for the rest of the night.”

Nodding, Lylas raised his wand. Performing the motions, he drew a large circle in the air in front of Remus’ body, saying the words at the same time. “ _Salus corpus_.” Rust-hued magic spilled from the holly and phoenix wand, surging into Remus’ still form. Numerous small spots on his hands, arms, chest, and legs were highlighted even through his clothing as the magic drew there to heal him. An overall dusting of reddish gold spilled from his skin, showing that the magic was healing him deeper as well. Most likely those aching bones he had been speaking of.

When the magic finally bled away, Lylas sank to his knees, barely able to keep his eyes open.

Sirius knelt in front of him worriedly, a gentle hand cupping Lylas’ face. “I don’t know if you should try to separate until you’ve rested. If you’re this exhausted together, then you might be dangerously so when apart.”

“I agree,” Remus murmured, hugging himself with wonder shining in his eyes. “I haven’t felt so good in _years_. Perhaps I misjudged how much healing I really needed.”

“Go to dinner, sit with your friends, then sleep. If you feel it safe to attempt, then separate when you are ready,” Sirius told him.

Nodding, Lylas shakily stood up and left the classroom, leaving the two Defense professors alone in the darkening office. It took only a moment for Remus to rush over to his lover, examining the new scar on his arm. “I’m sorry! I didn’t really hurt you that badly, did I?”

For answer, Sirius gently tilted up Remus’ chin and gave him a sweet kiss. “I’ve had worse bug bites, Remy. Are _you_ all right?”

“Yes,” Remus gasped, leaning up greedily for another kiss. “I feel…amazing, Sirius! It’s like ten years have been shaved from my life.”

“Well…” Sirius drawled, a cocky grin forming on his lips. “In that case…”

Neither Defense professor made an appearance at dinner that evening, nor would they be present for breakfast in the morning.

-o-0-o-

Lylas was so tired, he didn’t even consider what would happen when a strange boy who looked like the Potter twins entered the Great Hall. Dinner had already started by the time he had made it downstairs, and the room went deadly silent as he pushed open the doors and moved towards the Slytherin table to sit with his friends. He didn’t even notice the silence until he had sat beside Draco and began filling his plate, startled by all the stares he was receiving.

“…Potter?” Draco asked hesitantly.

“Yes,” Lylas sighed, holding his head in his hands. “Call us Lylas. We were too tired to attempt the separation spell. The Professors told us to eat dinner and sleep before trying.”

For some reason, Hermione, who was seated between Draco and Ron on her other side, snorted loudly and then erupted into hysterical giggles.

Lylas just gave her an incredulous look. She quickly got a hold of herself so she could explain. “Sorry!” she said, still giggling slightly. “But you sounded like a king using the royal ‘we’.”

Many of the students nearby stared at her, mouths agape. Then someone’s mouth twitched. Someone else gave a hesitant chuckle. Before long, the whole Slytherin table was nearly in tears from laughing so hard.

Sighing, Lylas resumed filling his plate and started eating. Everyone else soon calmed down and resumed their own meals.

The next interruption came from the head table. Dumbledore himself came down and approached Lylas, a suspiciously bright twinkle dancing in his eyes.

“Mr. Potter, this is remarkable! I hadn’t realized just how skilled you were at the symbiotic spells. You are a true credit to your teachers. Professors Lupin and Black must be very proud of you.”

At the words ‘symbiotic spells’ the still-curious student body erupted into whispers that spread like wildfire. Lylas groaned, banging his head on the table. “I’m sure they’re pleased, sir,” he mumbled. “We learned the first four today, not counting the combination spell.”

Dumbledore gaped at him. Actually _gaped_. “ _Four_!? That kind of progress is unheard of, my boy!”

Lylas shrugged. “Everything seemed to come more easily once we got the _praesidium patronum_ spell down. Once we found a good enough memory, everything just seems to click when we’re combined like this.”

Something in what they said, or something in their expression caused Dumbledore’s face to tighten. Quietly, so quiet that Lylas could barely hear him, they heard Dumbledore say, “A fully consummated soul bond? No. No…they wouldn’t…”

And he walked away, still mumbling to himself.

Lylas paled, suddenly not feeling hungry anymore. He pushed his plate away and stood, retreating from the Great Hall at a very quick trot.

He was _not_ running. There was nothing _to_ run from. 

But inside, something different was happening. Harry was pulling in one direction, wanting to do one thing, and Henry was pulling in another, wanting something completely different. By the time they reached the Gryffindor dorms, Lylas’ brow had a coating of sweat and he felt slightly nauseous. Finally, with a physical wrenching, their chosen paths caused them to split entirely, and the _duo universus_ spell collapsed on its own, leaving two exhausted Potter twins in the wake of the magical backlash.

They collapsed where they stood, barely having made it into the dormitory and missing the bed by several feet.

-o-0-o-


	31. The Crux

Harry woke up to see the familiar white walls and ceiling of the hospital wing. His mind felt empty. The connection to Henry was so tenuous and thin, it might as well not have been there.

He knew why. An idea had formed in his mind just before the _duo universus_ spell collapsed. The spell had collapsed _because_ of the idea.

Harry sat up and looked around the room. Henry was in the bed beside him, still apparently asleep. He sighed, running one hand through his hair.

Every time they combined into Lylas, it got easier and easier the more they did it. And after sleeping together—“consummating the bond” as Dumbledore had accidentally revealed—coming together into one person was second nature.

Now Harry couldn’t help wondering…what if they stayed like that? They could live a normal life—have a partner that wasn’t their own sibling; their own twin. Always together, one soul as they had been meant to be, perhaps.

And yet…as soon as Harry had thought it, Henry had rejected the idea. And the spell had collapsed. But Henry had had much more trouble accepting their relationship than Harry had, so why? Wouldn’t being normal make his brother happy?

“No,” came a whisper from the bed beside him.

Harry looked over and saw that Henry was awake, blinking sleepily and rubbing his face.

“Why?” Harry asked softly.

“Because now that I’ve finally accepted this—accepted _you_ —I don’t have any doubts anymore. We belong together. That’s the way things were meant to be.”

Harry nibbled his lip. “But…if Voldemort hadn’t attacked us, we wouldn’t be.”

Henry sat up, ruffling his already messy head of hair. “Do you believe in the prophecy?”

“Of course,” Harry said, blinking. Where did that come from?

“Then you believe in fate. How do you know we aren’t fated to be together?”

Harry frowned. “But our fate was changed. We were supposed to complete the prophecy, but it stopped applying to us when Voldemort marked us.”

Henry waved his hand negligently. “We’re the only ones who know the prophecy. How can you know whether or not that will still cause the prophecy to fulfill itself? If it’s our fate to complete the prophecy, aren’t we still doing so by actively searching for the new person it affects? And if we succeed, doesn’t that mean we still completed our fate?”

Harry nodded slowly, and Henry smiled gently at him.

“It _is_ our fate to be together, Har. Maybe if Voldemort hadn’t attacked us, we still would have ended up soul bonded somehow. Maybe he would have attacked us later, and it would have happened the same way. Maybe we would have chosen it ourselves. Maybe our parents would have done it to protect us. No matter what other circumstances you think up, I truly believe I would still love you the way I do now. _You are my soul mate_ ,” he finished strongly.

Harry sucked in a sharp breath. _Soul mates…_ “Isn’t that a little cruel, to make twin brothers soul mates?”

Henry shrugged, pushing back his covers. He padded barefoot across the space between their beds and climbed in beside Harry. Warm arms twined around him, pulling him close. “Do you really think this is cruel?” he asked softly, lowering his head to kiss Harry gently on the lips.

A warm tingling started in Harry’s toes and bubbled up into his chest. It was happiness. _Joy_. “No,” he said honestly, shaking his head.

“Good. Now let me back in.”

Harry realized that the bond had been slowly growing at the back of his mind. He could feel Hen again, fully open to him on the other side of the barrier he had created with his idea about remaining as Lylas for the rest of their lives. With a small push, the wall collapsed and he smiled as he felt Hen’s thoughts and feelings mingle with his own once more.

“Good,” Hen said again, snuggling down a little further in the bed and squeezing Harry closer once more.

Feeling warm, loved, and complete, Harry drifted back to sleep.

-o-0-o-

“We lost three days when you collapsed,” Remus said, “So we have a lot of time to make up. Honestly, though, it was probably for the best that you rested after the first set of spells. You were a lot more exhausted than we anticipated. If you start to feel that tired again, don’t hesitate to ask us to stop training for the day.”

Nodding seriously, Lylas raised his wand, ready for the first spell.

“All right,” Remus sighed. “Today we’ll start on the three offensive spells. Sirius will conjure a dummy for you to attack with each spell. The first one is _vulnero erado_ ; it causes multiple cutters to attack your opponent. Each one can cause anything from a scratch, to a deep wound, and possibly even removal of limbs, depending on how much power you put into it. Think of it like scratching frantically at someone who is attacking you—it causes the same sort of damage at the lowest level. The wand motion is a six-pointed star.” Remus demonstrated, drawing first one triangle in the air, then another that over lapped the first and turned on its axis to make a six-pointed star.

Lylas nodded and turned to the dummy that Sirius had placed at the opposite end of the room. The walls and floor glowed with a powerful spell absorption shield, which was keyed to two ward stones safely hidden underneath Remus’ desk behind where they all stood. With deft flicks of his wand, Lylas traced the triangles in the air and spoke the spell, “ _Vulnero erado_!”

A flurry of bright violet lines erupted in the air and flew toward the dummy. They hit with audible thumps, ripping long lines into the stuffing all over the dummy’s body.

“Excellent. We’ll work on adjusting the power levels at a different time,” Remus said, clapping Lylas on the shoulder. “Next is _pulsus everbero_ ; this is a really useful spell that is very similar to the blasting curse. The difference again is that instead of one single push from the spell, _pulsus everbero_ will continue beating or striking your target unless they move out of its path. So you can take down a brick wall, or beat someone to death, depending on how you use it.”

Lylas gulped, but raised his wand gamely.

“The wand movement is a hard flick. Start with the wand at your shoulder, start saying the spell and then fling your hand towards your target as you finish.”

Lylas raised the wand as directed and faced the target dummy, which Sirius had repaired. “ _Pulsus everbero_!”

A blast of air rushed across the room and slammed into the dummy, pushing it against the wall. Then, about a third of the distance away from the dummy, additional gusts of air formed along the spell path and continued to slam into the dummy over and over again.

Lylas distinctly heard it when the wooden pole that held up the dummy snapped, and hurriedly ended the spell.

“If that were a person, you would have just broken their spine,” Remus told him softly.

Lylas paled and stared at the dummy as Sirius fixed it again.

“Do you want to take a break or continue?” Remus asked. “There’s only one more spell today. And I can promise that our next lesson will be much more fun than this.”

Lylas swallowed, his hand tightening on his wand. “Let’s finish the last one.”

“All right.” Remus didn’t argue. “This one isn’t as deadly; _depulso extundo_ is almost the same as the blasting curse as well. The only difference between this one and pulsus everbero is the direction of the push. This spell is designed to simply push someone or something aside, to get it out of your way. Now, it can still seriously injure or kill if used correctly—but that will depend on what sort of objects are around when you throw the person. The wand movement is a little more difficult as well. You’ll want to start from the opposite shoulder from the direction you want to throw the person or object.”

Remus demonstrated, raising his own wand to his left shoulder and slowly flicking it straight in front of him, with a hard flick to the right at the end of the movement. He repeated it from his right shoulder, this time flicking his wand almost in a downward movement because he was holding it in his right hand. The hard flick at the end this time twisted to the left.

“Got it?” Remus asked.

Nodding, Lylas raised his wand to his left shoulder, deciding to try that first. “ _Depulso extundo_!” He slung his wand down and slightly to the right to make the flick at the end easier. This time a yellow-tinged blast of air departed from in front of him, but went wide of the target.

Remus nodded. “It’s difficult to keep your wand path straight and flick right at the end. If you start to turn your wand too soon, the spell path will veer in that direction instead of going straight and then curving at the last moment. Think of the spell path as a direct reflection of your wand movement.

Raising his wand again, Lylas recited the spell one more time. “ _Depulso extundo_!” He made sure to keep his wand movement straight this time, then sharply flicked to the right at the end of his extension. This time, the blast of air hit the dummy and glanced off, only knocking it back a few inches.

Frowning, he asked, “What am I doing wrong?”

Remus smiled. “Nothing. You did it exactly right. But do you remember what I said about your spell path reflecting your wand movement? Why do you think you missed?”

Lylas thought about it and realized that he had attacked the dummy head-on with a spell that was intended to knock it aside. So instead of coming from the side and knocking it out of the way, the spell had glanced aside at the front.

He raised his wand to his shoulder again and cast the spell one last time, “ _Depulso extundo_!” This time he made sure his wand pointed at the dummy’s left side during the descent, then sharply flicked to the right to demonstrate the direction he wanted to move it.

The yellow blast of air struck the dummy on its left side and threw it violently against the right-hand wall with a sharp _crunch_.

“Great job!” Remus clapped him on the shoulder again. Both he and Sirius were grinning.

The dog animagus had remained surprisingly quiet during the lesson, but he spoke now. “And tomorrow, we get to teach you to fly!”

Lylas gaped at his godfather, absently casting the _duo abscido_ spell to separate into Harry and Henry again.

“Fly?” Harry asked, an unholy light coming into his eyes. “You mean without a broom, don’t you?”

Grinning, Sirius eagerly rubbed his hands together, his eyes just as manic as Harry’s.

Henry traded dry looks with Remus. Quidditch fans.

-o-0-o-

“ _Volaticus volatilis_!” With a _whoosh_ , Lylas burst into the sky above the Quidditch pitch, his robes flapping in the air around him. “Whoop!” he screamed, delighted. Instinctively, without effort, he maneuvered through the air in complicated loop-dee-loops and rolls. This was freedom, and joy, and life…

“LYLAS SIRIUS POTTER, YOU’D BETTER NOT STAY UP THERE FOR MORE THAN AN HOUR, OR I _WILL_ COME UP THERE AFTER YOU!” Remus shouted.

Lylas just laughed, unconcerned. He would stop when he felt tired. He knew the dangers—Remus had pounded them into his skull for long enough that morning. And in the meantime, there was only him and the sky.

Nearby, Sirius was perched on a broom, literally rolling through the air with laughter.

Far away on the ground, Remus threw up his hands in defeat and walked into the Gryffindor section of the stands, content to watch his lover and his godson have fun for a while.

-o-0-o-

“All right, Lylas,” Remus murmured. They were seated in chairs in his office this time, discussing the final three spells before they actually attempted to learn them. Sirius had chosen to remain absent this time, realizing that humor might not be the best thing during their last lesson. “We’re down to the last three—the Deathly Trine. These spells are worse than the Unforgivable Curses. I want your solemn promise that you will not use them unless absolutely no other option is available to you. I wouldn’t even sanction the use of one of these spells on Voldemort himself.”

Taking a deep breath, Lylas breathed, “We swear, Remus. We will not use the Deathly Trine except as a last resort.”

Nodding, Remus took a moment to gather his thoughts. “Like all the other symbiotic spells, the Trine are just stronger versions of other spells. In this case, they’re stronger versions of the Unforgivables. Are you familiar with those?”

Lylas shook his head. “We’ve heard them mentioned a few times, but nothing really in depth.”

“There are three Unforgivables. The first is the Imperius Curse. With it, one wizard can take over the mind of another and force them to do whatever they ask. The second is the Cruciatus Curse, which causes horrible pain. The third is the Killing Curse, which causes instant death. Now, it’s just a theory, but it’s believed that the Killing Curse actually causes death through fear. No one has been able to prove it, because no one but you two have ever survived it.

“The Trine are very similar. The first is _tempero iuguolo_. Through it, you take over a victim’s mind and cause them to want to kill themselves. In all cases, the desire for death is so strong that they take the most immediate means of killing themselves that is available. If they have a blade, they will stab themselves. If they are in a high place, they will throw themselves off the edge. If they are sitting in an empty room, naked, they will simply beat themselves to death _no matter how long it takes_.”

Lylas swallowed and looked away from Remus’ eyes, which had gone bright amber as he imparted the terrible truth of the spells.

“The second spell in the Trine is _excrucio mortis_. It causes more pain than even the Cruciatus, if you can imagine such a thing. And it _does not stop_. The person will continue to feel pain, until they die. That is the only purpose of the spell.

“The last spell is _pax pacis caedo_. Given the etymology of the Latin, it ought to cause a peaceful death for the person you cast it on.”

“Ought to?” Lylas asked, frowning. “But how is that worse than the Killing Curse?”

“Because no one has ever seen it cast, or performed it themselves in living memory,” Remus said, spreading his hands. “Regardless, the wizarding world regards it as murder if a spell causes another person’s death. So even in places like St. Mungo’s, wizards and witches must die by natural causes or failure to cure a magical malady. If a Healer were to cast the Killing Curse or _pax pacis caedo_ on a patient, the Wizengamot would try them for murder.”

“But that’s…”

“Ridiculous, I know. But that’s the way things are. Personally, if you have to kill someone, I would use _pax pacis caedo_ , since it should promise a peaceful death. Even an enemy deserves that, don’t you think.”

Lylas thought about the torture that Voldemort put his Death Eaters through on a regular basis, and he nodded.

“Do you want to try casting these spells, or would you rather just know them and hope you don’t have to use them?” Remus asked then.

Sighing, Lylas ran one hand through his hair. “I can’t imagine how I would practice them in the first place. And I’m sure I don’t want to _feel_ what it’s like to cast any of them. Is it all right if I don’t cast them? I thought we needed to learn all twelve spells to master them?”

“I have a jar of spiders we can use if you want to practice on living targets,” Remus said softly. “Or you could just cast them at the wall and let the wards absorb them. But I understand if you have misgivings. I’ve taught you the incantations, so you already _do_ know them.”

“Then I’d rather not,” Lylas said. He cast the _duo abscido_ spell and suddenly Harry was sitting in Henry’s lap on the chair.

Remus smiled. “I’m glad. As wonderful as it is that someone is capable of casting all of the spells, I think we’re all agreed that these last three are more terrible than they are useful.”

“Except _pax pacis caedo_ ,” Henry said softly. “I wouldn’t want to kill anyone, but if I had to…”

Harry followed the train of his brother’s thoughts and hugged his brother fiercely. “We’ll find another way to get rid of Voldemort’s horcrux, Hen!”

“I know. Or I hope so, anyway,” Henry agreed, hugging Harry back. “But if you have no other choice, that’s the way I would prefer.”

Nothing else remained to be said. The three sat quietly in the Professor’s office as the sun went down outside. They had mastered all of the spells. Now all they could do was practice and prepare for their outing with the Headmaster.

-o-0-o-

Far away across Britain, Marcus Flint was kneeling before the Dark Lord with his final report for the school year.

“Theo will be bringing the collection of hairs to you tomorrow, my lord,” he said. “The only other news I have to report is some extra lessons that the Potter twins have been receiving.”

“Extra lessons?” Voldemort snapped. “Why didn’t you mention them at the beginning?”

“I-I didn’t think it was important, my lord,” Flint said, shivering with terror. “T-The Headmaster has them learning something called symbiotic spells from Professor Lupin and Professor Black.”

Voldemort’s eyes bulged and he leaned forward on his throne. “And have they been successful?”

“Y-yes, my lord,” Flint said quickly. “They arrived at dinner last week as one person, but I don’t know if they’re learning anything else.”

Voldemort leaned back again, a crease appearing in his brow as he thought.

Flint remained kneeling on the floor for several long minutes, eventually shifting uncomfortably. “M-My lord…?”

Voldemort waved his hand in irritation. “Be gone!”

Quickly, Marcus Flint scurried from the room, thankful to have escaped without punishment this time.

From where he stood in the shadows beside Voldemort’s throne, Snape watched his lover thinking and felt a cold shudder run down his spine. Something bad was going to come of this, he could feel it in his bones.

-o-0-o-


	32. The Cave and the Tower

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** Sorry for the incredibly long wait. I finished my novel for my thesis and it’s all turned in. While I’m waiting for the final edits to come back from my advisers I’m going to do my best to finish this fic. I’ve also started posting _The One True King_ , which is completely finished and ten chapters long. I’m posting chapters of that every Saturday. Please read it if you like HP/LV. This chapter is the beginning of the end.

_May 15, 1994_

_3:00 PM—_

Severus clutched the box of potion vials to his chest, watching as the Dark Lord strolled casually through his followers like a wraith. Long white fingers stroked a cheek here, a shoulder there, and, once, the back of someone’s neck.

Looking over the army of white-masked faces, Severus counted absently. There were two missing. Two had been missing for several weeks of these meetings, and now _the_ night was upon them and they had still yet to return.

“They are coming,” the Dark Lord hissed with satisfaction, returning to rest on his throne. 

No one in the room so much as twitched, so well trained they were. As several sets of boots marched up to the doors at the back of the room, Severus nearly marveled at how no one dared to turn and look to see who was coming. Only he jumped when the doors swung open and Rabastan and Rodolphus Lestrange entered, a weak form carried between them with its arms over their shoulders. Severus hid his grimace with the ease of long practice and tried to release his death-grip on the box as he watched.

“You return…at last. He is alive?” Voldemort asked.

Rodolphus stepped forward and bowed low. “He is, my lord,” he said loudly. “He was being held under the Imperius Curse by his father and the family house elf.” His sneer said it all. _Weak._

Severus studied the tousled head of brown hair, the only distinguishing characteristic of the person still being supported by Rabastan. His head hung too low for him to see the face.

Voldemort stood once more and descended the steps on the dais that held his throne. Rabastan quivered in his boots while his brother wisely stepped out of the way. They had been sent to find this man, but it remained to be seen if he would be punished or rewarded.

“Barty…” Voldemort hissed softly, reaching out one hand to raise the man’s chin.

Severus barely contained his gasp. _Barty Crouch Jr…alive!?_

“I have a very special task for you, dear Barty…” Voldemort murmured, just loud enough for Severus’ sensitive ears to catch.

The limp man roused slightly. “I live…to serve…my lord,” he rasped.

A satisfied smirk curled the Dark Lord’s lips. “Good.” He turned to face the dais where Severus still stood. “Make him ready, Severus. He stands with us this night.”

Severus bowed. “As you say, my lord.” _What does he want Barty to do?_ He carefully set his box of vials on the Dark Lord’s throne, then escorted the limp man from the room and down the hall to his personal potions laboratory.

“I thought you were dead,” he said noncommittally as he began collecting the necessary potions to make the younger man ready for a battle.

Barty gave a wheezing, sickly laugh. “I don’t give up that easily. I had too much to live for.”

Severus paused with a vial in either hand and studied the other man. He vaguely recalled that Barty was always sickly when they were children. He had been in Ravenclaw, and a year below Severus. He found himself oddly…curious. What could keep one man going for thirteen years of imprisonment, first in Azkaban and then under the Imperius Curse? 

“I can’t imagine,” he murmured without thinking.

Barty looked up at him, brown eyes dimmed with pain and exhaustion. “It’s the same thing I’ve always lived for, Severus. The same person.” His eyes flickered back and forth between each of Severus’ as if searching for something. Sighing, he looked away. “I live to serve the Dark Lord. It’s all I have left in me after all this time.”

“Indeed,” Severus said softly. Had there been something else…for a moment? No. He handed the first vial to Barty and waited for him to drink. He would do as the Dark Lord bid him and return Barty to health, then focus on his own mission for the evening.

Tonight, he would kill Albus Dumbledore.

-o-0-o-

_4:00 PM—_

“Take one vial each, _but do not drink it yet_!” Voldemort ordered, motioning to the box of precious potion vials Severus had prepared. “It is enough to last a few hours at most and without it the wards will expel you. Rosier, your group will focus on bringing down the wards and fighting anyone who opposes us.”

Evan Rosier nodded with a grim smile. Wards were his specialty.

“The rest of you know your missions. If you have been assigned to corral the students in their dorms, you will secret yourselves away in Hogsmeade until the time is right. Fenrir, you will lead our group of assassins into the forest and wait for the signal.

“Barty.” Voldemort paused with a sickly smile. “You will be with Severus. _Do not_ let him out of your sight. I want him protected at all costs, for he has the greatest mission of all. He will kill Dumbledore.”

There were cheers and cackles from amidst the crowd of Death Eaters.

“Go, my faithful!” Voldemort crowed, raising his arms with delight. “Get to your places swiftly, but carefully. Draw no more attention to yourselves than necessary. Tonight, we win!”

Pairs of Death Eaters began to pop away—the Carrows, Yaxley and Mulciber, Nott and Travers, Avery and Dolohov. Fenrir gathered an odd assortment together that included Severus, Barty, Lucius, Bellatrix, the Lestrange brothers, and Macnair. They apparated directly to the Forbidden Forest and settled in to wait for the agreed upon sign that the battle was underway.

-o-0-o-

_5:45 PM—_

Abe polished the glass in his hands furiously, studiously ignoring the incongruous number of Dark wizards gathering in his pub. Something was afoot, and he wanted no part of it. His mind strayed to the Potter twins, and he ruthlessly forced the memory of them to the back of his thoughts. He could not help them now. No one could.

-o-0-o-

_6:00 PM—_

The twins met Dumbledore in the Entrance Hall and brought only their wands and their invisibility cloak, just as he had told them. 

“Are you ready?” Dumbledore asked them gravely. His appearance was quite uncharacteristic. Gone were the flamboyant, brightly colored robes and the grandfatherly twinkle. Both his clothing and his expression were serious, and the twins gave him serious nods in return. “I need your word,” Dumbledore began slowly, “that you will do exactly what I tell you to do tonight. There is no telling what sort of protections Voldemort has placed on his horcrux, and I will not endanger you needlessly. Do I have your promise that you will obey me?”

Harry nodded readily, but Henry frowned. “I will obey unless it is quite obvious that a different course would be wiser,” he said firmly.

Dumbledore nodded back as though he had expected this. “Then let us leave. Put on your cloak and follow me to Hogsmeade.”

The twins threw the shimmering silver cloth over their heads and followed the Headmaster out of the front doors of Hogwarts, across the lush green summer lawn, and down the long and winding path to the little village. The school wards extended over the village as well as the school, and the Headmaster stood out as he walked along the little cobbled path past the Three Broomsticks. 

Henry pulled Harry up against the side of the building and they stopped as Madame Rosmerta bustled out into the street to greet Dumbledore.

“Good evening, Albus!” she said, smiling warmly. “Here for a cuppa?”

“No thank you, Rosmerta,” Dumbledore said, not stopping in his intended direction despite her stepping in his path. “Just out for a bit of a stroll. I thought the fresh air might clear my head of the cobwebs that seem determined to grow there of late.”

Rosmerta hurried alongside him, and the twins followed along behind at a safe distance. “You look a bit peaky, Albus,” she said with concern. Her hand rested on his arm, tugging ineffectually as she tried to get him to stop. “Are you sure you don’t want a drink?”

“I’m quite sure, dear. Thank you,” Dumbledore told her kindly. “I must be going now.”

She released him and stopped in the middle of the street to watch him leave, wringing her hands slightly. Harry and Henry passed her like ghosts, their feet making barely any noise on the well-maintained cobbles.

“She seems worried,” Harry whispered to his brother when they had passed a good distance from her.

“Yes…I wonder what’s wrong,” Henry murmured back.

They approached the village gates and found Dumbledore waiting for them with his arm raised. Without comment, they both reached up to take hold of his arm. With a step and a twist, they rushed away with a feeling like being sucked through a straw.

When they landed, there was the smell of salt water in the air, the sound of the pounding ocean waves, and a whipping wind that made it difficult to peer through the darkening gloom of sunset.

“There.” Dumbledore pointed to a cliff face some meters away from the rocky outcrop they were perched on in the middle of the cove. A dark gap was carved into the rock, low on the cliff and almost submerged as the tide ran out. “We must swim.”

With one large splash and two smaller, they set off to find the Dark Lord’s soul.

-o-0-o-

_6:15 PM—_

Ron and Draco walked slowly through the hallways of Hogwarts on their way to Gryffindor tower after dinner. “Do you think they’ll be all right?” Ron asked.

Draco scoffed. “If it were just Dumbledore and Harry, I might be worried. But they’ve got a Slytherin with them. I’m sure they’ll be fine.”

Ron laughed softly, which was Draco’s intent. They walked a few more steps in silence and then he said, “I’ve just got a feeling, you know?”

Draco stopped walking and looked at him seriously. 

“What?” Ron asked self-consciously.

“I’ve got a feeling, too,” Draco murmured, pressing closer to the tall redhead.

Ron backed away instinctively, feeling a hot blush climbing up his cheeks. “Draco…?”

“Shh…” Draco shushed him. “Stop thinking for a moment, Ron. Just feel.”

“Wha—mmph.”

Draco pressed him against the cool glass window right there in the middle of the sixth floor corridor and kissed him hard. When he finally pulled away, they were both breathless.

“W-why?” Ron asked.

“Because…” Draco’s eyes moved the window and he trailed off. Leaning over Ron’s shoulder, he peered through the thick glass toward the forest in the distance.

“What is it? What did you see?” Ron asked worriedly.

“I thought I saw a light in the forest, but it was gone in a moment. It was probably just Hagrid.”

“Probably…” Ron said slowly.

“You don’t think so?” Draco asked, shifting so he could look Ron in the face again. Ron gulped visibly, his eyes straying to Draco’s lips for a moment before he clenched them shut and shook his head.

“I think we should tell McGonagall. That feeling of mine has just gotten ten times worse. And with Dumbledore out of the castle tonight, I don’t want to take any chances.”

“All right,” Draco said. He pulled back, intending to continue up to the seventh floor and the Headmaster’s office where McGonagall was waiting. Ron lurched forward, arms outstretched as though he did not want to let him go. They stumbled together and across the corridor into the opposite wall. “I thought you had a feeling,” Draco laughed.

“I’ve got two feelings,” Ron murmured, dipping his head closer to Draco’s. “One is bad and says we should go see Professor McGonagall. One is good—more than good—and says I should snog you first.”

Draco felt his will crumbling as he leaned up to meet Ron’s lips. “All right, but just for a minute…”

They made it up to the Headmaster’s office ten minutes later to find it crowded with aurors, professors, and all of the prefects for every house, including the Head Boy and Girl, all babbling incoherently.

“What’s going on?” Ron asked, still settling his mussed hair.

The room quieted upon seeing them, and McGonagall took the opportunity to speak from behind the desk. “Hogwarts is under attack.”

-o-0-o-

Severus stood like a silent shadow, watching the school that he had called home for more years than he could count.

“Do you miss it?” Barty asked softly. 

Severus barely turned his head. Barty had been following Voldemort’s order to a ‘T’. The man had not left his side for even a moment since they left the manor.

“Sometimes,” he said honestly. “Less than I would have thought.”

“I miss it,” Barty sighed. “Life was so much simpler when I was at Hogwarts.”

Severus snorted, thinking of his own years there. Fighting with the Marauders, losing Lily to James Potter, teaching the explosive subject of Potions to generations of students, reviving the Dark Lord at the cost of a boy’s life… No, life had not been simple when he lived in the ancient castle. But it had been richer. So much of his life now seemed stagnant. A tremor passed through his hands and he clenched them tightly. How could the Dark Lord have changed so much?

“What is it?” Barty asked. His tone was colored with concern, and he moved closer in the darkness to see if Severus had hurt himself. “ _Lumos_.”

“Put that out, you fool!” Severus snarled. “Do you want to give us away?”

The light disappeared mere seconds after it appeared, leaving spots on his vision.

“I just wanted…” Barty trailed off, looking somewhat ashamed.

“I am fine,” Severus said more quietly. “It is a side effect of the Cruciatus Curse.”

Barty stared at him for a long moment. “That side effect only happens after prolonged exposure.”

Severus did not answer that bold statement and instead returned to his study of the castle.

Barty wisely remained silent. It was a marked improvement over the cackling of Bellatrix in the near distance.

-o-0-o-

_6:30 PM—_

Dumbledore, Harry, and Henry studied the small boat before them before Harry finally spoke. “There’s no way all three of us will fit in that. It looks like it would sink under the weight of one person alone!” The craft reminded him eerily of the gondola steered by Charon as he guided souls into the Underworld on the River Styx. The water in the cavern didn’t exactly help. It smelled of death and decay, cold and terror. He would have done anything in order to not have to cross it.

But cross it they must. The horcrux lay in the center.

“Perhaps you should merge together,” Dumbledore suggested. “I believe it will carry us both, if just.”

They cast the _duo universus_ spell with barely a thought, switching to the holly and phoenix wand when Lylas stood where Harry and Henry once had.

They entered the boat first at Dumbledore’s motion. It wobbled dangerously, then started moving on its own once the old man had stepped into it behind them.

It took perhaps a minute to reach the center island of stone. There they found a simple stone pedestal which held a glowing green liquid in a basin on the top. 

“It must be drunk, I think,” Dumbledore murmured, looking down at the stuff.

“We’ll drink,” Lylas said.

Dumbledore shook his head. “No, if it is poison, no matter how fast or slow-acting, it is better if I drink. I am closer to death than either of you. I will take the risk gladly. You must make me finish drinking it all, no matter what. This I order of you.”

Lylas didn’t argue. Harry might have, were he not joined with Henry just then. But in this instance, the Slytherin side of their consciousness won.

Dumbledore conjured a glass goblet and dipped it into the potion, filling it to the brim. He began to drink without hesitation, then dipped a second and third goblet-full as quickly as he could. He tried to take a fourth, and that was when the potion struck. He goblet lay on its side in the basin, half-submerged, and Dumbledore fell to the ground where he sat with a far-off look in his eyes.

Lylas grabbed the goblet from the basin, filled it, and turned to hold it to Dumbledore’s lips. “Drink,” they ordered.

Dumbledore drank. For a few more goblet-fulls, this was enough. Then Dumbledore began to moan and cry.

“No more!” he begged them. “No more! I’ll be good, please!”

“Drink,” they ordered a little more forcefully.

They were on the tenth or twelfth cup, the basin two-thirds empty, when Dumbledore said something that made them pause. “It was my fault! I know it was my fault! Please, no more! I won’t do it again! I’ll never make that mistake again!”

“I know,” Lylas murmured, holding the goblet to Dumbledore’s lips again. “Drink, it will make it better.”

“I promise, I promise!” Dumbledore sobbed after two more. There were only three cupfuls left. “Ariana! I won’t let it happen again! No more!”

They pressed the next cup of potion into him, and he fell sideways against the stone column of the basin. “Gellert…” he whispered. “Forgive me…”

Dumbledore drank the last cup of potion and grew quiet. Peering into the basin, Lylas spied the locket. A slim golden circle on a gold-washed chain. Pocketing it quickly, they turned to the Headmaster who seemed to be recovering his wits.

“Water,” Dumbledore gasped. “Water, please!”

Lylas cast _aguamenti_ on the basin, filling it with water. But no matter how they dipped, the goblet would not touch it. They tried the spell on the glass itself, but it emptied before it could reach Dumbledore’s lips. Casting the spell directly over the old man’s head resulted in the same. Looking at the water surrounding the rock, Lylas gulped. It was the only source of water available to them. Which was exactly what the Dark Lord intended.

“ _Accio_ water!” What they summoned was not the water, but the things that had been living in it. White shapes immediately began to swarm the rock, dead blue-grey eyes staring at their prey as they lurched forward with wet squelching. 

They had not been trained by Remus and Sirius for nothing, though. They knew inferi for what they were, and they knew what their weakness was.

“ _Flamma maximus_!” A nimbus of fire filled the air above their upraised wand. Moving the wand in large circles, they whipped the flames into a firestorm that encircled the rock and pushed back the inferi until they had nowhere to go but the water.

Dumbledore scrambled to his feet and stumbled back to the boat. They joined him, maintaining the fire, and waited as the boat carried them across the water to the far shore. The Headmaster drank a palmful of water once they were safely ashore with the boat sinking once more behind them and the flames flickering out of the air and leaving them once more in the dark cave.

“You…did well…my boys,” Dumbledore gasped.

“We should get you back to Hogwarts, Professor,” Lylas said, helping the old man to stand once more and draping one of his arms across their shoulders.

“Yes. Yes,” Dumbledore said.

-o-0-o-

_7:00 PM—_

The castle’s forces had been mobilized, and everyone was standing ready when the Death Eaters first struck the wards with a bell-like gong. McGonagall had cast a spell to bring the suit of armor and the gargoyles to life to defend the castle. Sprout had awoken several plants that had been set to guard the perimeter. Flitwick was marshaling the professors and aurors alike, proving himself to be quite the effective little general.

Ron and Draco were locked into Gryffindor tower with all of the rest of the students. McGonagall had wanted to send Draco to Slytherin, but he had refused. They had filled in Hermione and Ron’s siblings, and the rest of the tower that was there eavesdropped on the conversation so everyone knew what was coming. 

The first strike on the wards rocked the castle to its foundations. Outside, Death Eaters downed their vials of potion and then simply walked through the front gates where they should never have been allowed to pass. 

In the forest, everyone but Severus did the same. He knew what the potion would do, and he happened to know that he still had access to the wards. A foolish mistake on Dumbledore’s part. Perhaps the old man thought that Severus would someday see the error of his ways and return to the safety of the school.

Perhaps the old man wasn’t as foolish as he had once thought.

The first rush of fighting was more than enough distraction for Fenrir’s team of “assassins” to slip into the school itself along with the four pairs who were to secure the dormitories. They lost Bellatrix and Macnair along the way as they spotted their intended targets of Sirius Black and Rubeus Hagrid. The rest of them swarmed into the school and made their way to the tallest tower where astronomy lessons took place. They would cast the Dark Mark there to lure in the Headmaster.

Yaxley and Mulciber went toward the Hufflepuff common rooms near the kitchens while Nott and Travers went to the Slytherins in the dungeons. Avery and Dolohov went to Ravenclaw tower when they passed it, and the Carrows to Gryffindor as Severus’ group passed onto the eighth floor.

Lucius stayed with them, which surprised Severus somewhat. He did not know who Lucius was meant to kill, but he would wager a fair number of galleons that it was Draco. Draco, who ought to be in the dungeons and not anywhere near the eighth floor or the astronomy tower.

Severus said nothing, though. He had no desire to see his godson killed, even more than Lucius probably did not wish to kill his own son.

That left only Fenrir, who was probably supposed to kill or capture Lupin. Who knew where the mangy werewolf was. Severus could not have cared less about the man’s fate.

The top of the astronomy tower was unnaturally still. Fenrir had reached it first and cast the Dark Mark for all to see in the night sky.

Now all they had to do was wait.

-o-0-o-

_7:15 PM—_

When they returned to Hogsmeade, the first thing they saw was the green cloud of the Dark Mark hanging over Hogwarts.

“Too late!” Dumbledore gasped, lurching forward as though he might be able to reach the school in one step to put a stop to the battle surely waging there.

“Hold on tight, Professor,” Lylas said, casting a feather-light charm on the Headmaster. “We’ll fly you there faster than any broom.”

Dumbledore gripped them around the waist from behind as they cast their favorite of the symbiotic spells. “ _Volaticus volatilis_!” They rushed into the sky and toward the school and whatever fate awaited them.

-o-0-o-

Severus stood close to the railing around the top of the astronomy tower, looking down on the multi-colored flash of spell fire below. Where was the old man? What was taking him so long?

A spot in the darkness, moving faster than any owl he had ever seen, caught his attention. As it neared, he realized what he was seeing and backed away from the stone railing, motioning to the others to fall back as well. “They are coming,” he said simply.

A moment later, a young boy landed on the tower without the use of any broom. Simply flew there under his own power. Severus could not understand it. Even less could he understand why the boy resembled the Potter twins so much. Dumbledore was behind him when they landed, but quickly pushed the boy aside to face the Death Eaters with his wand raised.

He looked weak; ill. Severus raised his wand. “ _Expelliarmus_.” The old man could not do anything to block him, and his wand flew from his hand and over the battlements.

“Severus…” Dumbledore whispered, “Please…”

His lips twisting with a sneer for the man’s many faults, Severus raised his wand one last time. “ _Avada Kedavra_!”

-o-0-o-

_7:23 PM—_

Before Lylas’ eyes, one of the greatest wizards the world had ever known died. Dumbledore was blown back by the force of Snape’s spell, falling over the battlements and down, down, down to crumble weakly into the unforgiving ground below. The fighting around where he had fallen quieted and stilled as they looked after the body. The lull spread across all of the fighters until no spells were being cast at all.

“It is done,” said Snape.

The Death Eaters with him cheered and turned their attention to the boy who had been left behind. Lylas faced them defiantly, his holly and phoenix feather wand raised as he took a dueling stance.

“Leave him,” Snape ordered the rest.

“But—!” snarled a feral-looking man with blood around his mouth and on his fingers.

“He is a child. The Dark Lord ordered that all the students be contained while the adults are dealt with. The battle is nearly won. We must go!”

The others needed no urging to begin rushing down the tower stairs. Lylas watched silently. Now was not the time. Snape was right about that much.

Finally only Snape himself was left, along with an ordinary looking man with brown eyes and hair. “Who are you?” Snape asked Lylas.

Lylas smirked. “I am Lylas. Son of Lily and James Potter. Nice to meet you.”

Snape’s eyes widened, and then his companion grabbed his arm before he could ask anything else.

“We need to be gone as well, Severus,” the other man urged frantically. “It will not be safe here once they realize where the body fell from.”

“They will not fight,” Snape responded hollowly.

Lylas knew he was right. The fight had gone out of Hogwarts’ defenders when they realized that the Headmaster was dead.

Snape looked back one more time before descending the staircase, as if to soak in the sight of Lylas standing there. Then he was gone, and Lylas was the only being left standing on the tower roof.

“ _Duo abscido_ ,” they said softly. Harry and Henry stood there, looking down on the quiet battlefield until steps on the stairs made them turn once more.

Remus and Sirius rushed onto the roof, both looking the worse for wear.

“You’re all right,” Harry breathed with relief.

“And so are you,” Sirius answered. He swept them both into a bruising hug, which they returned wholeheartedly.

“It was Snape,” Henry said dully. “He killed Dumbledore.”

Remus looked at them sadly, and nodded. “We figured as much. The battle was going in our favor until he fell. Now, well…”

“What’s happening?” Henry asked. “The others…?”

“None of the students fought,” Sirius said, pulling back a little so he could see them. “But I saw Flitwick fall. Nearly cut in half by Mulciber’s dark cutting curse. A number of the aurors weren’t moving when I left the grounds. I took out Fenrir.” A grim smile lit his face for a moment before an anguished expression replaced it. “Not before he killed Hagrid.”

“No!” Harry gasped, tears already falling down his cheeks.

“Who else?” Henry asked, crying silently.

“One of the older Weasley boys was attacked by Bellatrix as Snape’s group was leaving,” Remus said. “I don’t know which one, and I don’t know if he lived.”

“My cousin Tonks,” Sirius said, tears coursing his own cheeks now. “Too many to name. I don’t even know, yet, who all has died.”

The twins nodded, hugging their godparents tightly as the night caught up with them.

“Did you get it?” Remus finally asked. “Did you find what you went to find?”

They both reached into their robe pockets for the locket. It had ended up in Harry’s when they split. Pulling it out, they all studied the simple golden piece with a clear gem embedded in the front.

“Open it,” Henry said softly.

Harry did. A piece of paper was inside:

__

To the Dark Lord—  
I know I will be dead long before you read this  
but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret.  
I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can.  
I face death in the hope that when you meet your match,  
you will be mortal once more.  
R.A.B.


	33. No. 12 Grimmauld Place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been watching an 90’s anime called Marmalade Boy, which is full of drama and love triangles and craziness. So if this chapter reads more like a TV show than my normal stuff, well…hopefully that’s a good thing. I’m also going to keep using the somewhat sparse style that I adopted for The One True King. I’ve got a lot of stuff to cover in these last few chapters, and I really only want to touch the highlights. Onward!

Harry stood close to the railing on top of the Astronomy Tower, staring down at the distant crowd of people who had gathered for Dumbledore’s funeral. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to attend, though he was wearing his best robes for the occasion. It all seemed so…impossible now. Dumbledore was dead. The horcrux was a fake, and they still had the real locket and the cup to find.

 _Did Voldemort create another horcrux after his return?_ Harry wasn’t sure, but they would have to find out. It was possible that he hadn’t, after finding out that Henry was his horcrux. _Henry…_ That was another problem Harry had no idea how to handle. How could he remove the piece of Voldemort from his brother without killing him? His brother was down there on the ground somewhere among the mourners and their connection was stretched to the limit. Even at this distance he could feel the niggling worry in Henry’s mind that was caused by his own absence.

But…he just didn’t know where to start. What were they going to do next?

“Harry?”

Turning, he saw that Hermione had paused at the top of the steps with a surprised look on her face.

“Mione?” he asked. “What are you doing here?”

She laughed. “I was about to ask you the same thing.” She moved to stand beside him at the railing and they both looked down on the crowd below. “I needed to think,” she murmured softly, “and it didn’t seem possible with all the tears and wailing going on down there.”

“Wailing?” he asked, half laughing.

She smiled at him, then grimaced as she looked over the railing. “Ron and Draco got together that night.” It left her in a rush and she heaved a sigh of relief after the words were spoken. “I know there are bigger things to worry about right now. It seems so petty to be upset about someone else’s relationship with everything that’s happened, but…”

“It’s not petty,” Harry told her softly. He put his arm around her shoulders and lightly kissed the top of her head when she rested it against his chest. “Our lives won’t simply stop happening just because the Headmaster is dead.”

She nodded mutely, closing her eyes and turning to hug him tightly around the waist. He folded her in his arms and stroked her hair soothingly. It was several moment before she spoke again. “It’s just…” her hands tightened against his back, then relaxed. “It’s not fair!” she whined.

Harry laughed, and she joined him a moment later, pulling away. “Thank you, Harry,” she said sincerely.

“I didn’t do anything,” he protested.

She shook her head. “It feels like forever since we’ve just been together like this. The year has been so busy, and so much has happened…”

He thought over the past year and had to agree. He and Hen had spent a lot of time just the two of them, while Hermione, Ron, and Draco sorted out whatever had been going on with them. Most of the time he spent with his closest friends had been spent in a group rather than alone like this.

“I wonder what next year will be like,” he said.

She sobered quickly, tugging on a hank of her unruly hair. “I’ve been thinking about that, Harry; I don’t think we can come back next year.”

“What!?”

Hermione spread her arms to gesture at the school behind her. “Don’t you realize? The Death Eaters may not have stayed in Hogwarts but the wards have fallen. The Headmaster is dead. So many others lost their lives or their loved ones that it will take months for us to recover. The Dark Lord has brought the Wizarding World to its knees. One more blow will finish it.”

He blanched. “And you think…”

“The Ministry,” she said with utmost certainty. “This summer. I just wish I knew exactly when.”

Harry turned away, leaning heavily on the railing that edged the tower. If the Ministry fell, Hogwarts would fall with it. And with the children under his control, no one would dare to fight Voldemort’s regime. “We’ve already run out of time,” he breathed, realizing that all of his problems were now a hundred times worse. Hunting down horcruxes in a world with Voldemort in control would be nearly impossible.

“In a way,” Hermione agreed. He turned to find her hugging herself as the wind picked up. “But that doesn’t mean it’s too late.”

Harry nodded. _When will it be too late?_ he wondered. He thought of all the Order members. Of Madame Bones and Professor Slughorn. Of Ron and Draco and Hermione. It would be too late when none of them were left to do anything about it. Until then…

“We need to make plans for when the Ministry falls,” he said.

She sighed. “I’m glad you believe me, Harry.”

He stared at her. “Why wouldn’t I believe you? You’re the brightest witch I know!”

She blushed and turned away to descend the stairs. “Because I was once a know-it-all first year that no one could stand to be around. I just want you to know how much I appreciate your friendship.”

He caught up to her and put his arm around her shoulders again. “You’ll always be my friend, Hermione,” he said. Then he couldn’t resist adding, “Even when you’re married to Ron and Draco and popping out little blonde and ginger babies!”

She turned bright red, ducked out from under his arm, and smacked him on the back of the head. “Harry!”

He laughed all the way down the tower steps. It felt good to laugh, and he thought Dumbledore would appreciate that more than the well-wishers flinging themselves at his tomb.

-o-0-o-

“Lucius…” Voldemort hissed. The man prostrating himself on the floor of the Malfoy ballroom cum throne room twitched. “I am very disappointed in you.”

“My lord, I…”

“Silence!” Voldemort snapped. “Not only did you fail to kill your son, you didn’t make any apparent attempt to find him in the first place! Are you _trying_ to make me angry, Lucius, or are you simply a blathering fool!?”

“H-He’s my _son_ , my lord,” Lucius protested. “My _heir_.”

“HEIRS CAN BE REPLACED,” Voldemort roared. He raised his wand as if to cast a spell, then visibly calmed himself down. “Luckily for you, I have need of an…assistant.”

Lucius looked up in trepidation.

Smiling nastily, Voldemort held out his empty hand. “I require your arm, Lucius.”

Standing slowly, Lucius rolled up the sleeve on his left arm and extended it warily toward the Dark Lord.

Voldemort stabbed his wand into the mark and said, “ _Duo universus!_ ”

Lucius stared as an ugly black nimbus surrounded him. The magic of the dark mark erupted from his skin and he screamed as that dark cloud shrunk in on him in a wave of terror and pain that was the stuff of nightmares.

A moment later, the magic cleared. Where once had stood Voldemort grasping Lucius’ wrist stood Voldemort alone. The Dark Lord smiled, elated. His laugh started softly, low in his chest, and then he was cackling madly in the middle of the empty ballroom. It had worked. _It had worked!_

-o-0-o-

Sirius traced the elegant letters of the note for the thousandth time. He would have recognized the writing anywhere, even without the signature at the bottom. His little brother, Regulus, had stolen the Dark Lord’s horcrux. It was…unbelievable.

He thought back to the day he learned of his brother’s death. Already estranged from his family, he had heard the news almost in passing from Narcissa Malfoy. From what he knew, the family had had no warning. Regulus simply went missing, and then they noticed that his date of death had appeared on the family tapestry.

There had always been rumors that Regulus had died at Voldemort’s own hand, but they were just that—rumors. Sirius had never been able to bring himself to believe them. Regulus had been too indoctrinated into the Death Eater culture. Their parents had been so proud…

So to think of Regulus as some defiant hero trying to bring down the Dark Lord was…it was…

“Siri?”

His head snapped up, pupils dilating in the darkness of the room as he looked at Remus. How long had he been sitting there? Wasn’t it still mid-afternoon when he sat down?

“Siri, it’s time to go,” Remus said gently.

“Already?” Sirius asked dumbly.

Remus nodded. 

Sirius looked down at the note in his hands again, touching the writing one more time. He would never know what kind of person his brother really was. He would never see the man Regulus might have become.

“Siri…” Remus was right in front of him. Sirius hadn’t even heard him move. Gentle fingers pulled the note from his hands and tucked it in a pocket out of sight. “Maybe when we get to Grimmauld Place you’ll find more answers.”

The thought brought back a surge of life Sirius hadn’t realized he was missing. “Yes. Grimmauld. Are the children ready?”

“We’re just waiting for you,” Remus confirmed.

Sirius stood, making sure that his shrunken trunk was still in his pocket. “Let’s go.”

He joined Remus in the sitting room of their quarters. His pups were there, along with their friends: Ron, Hermione, and Draco. Draco was staying with them permanently and Hermione was going to see to the safety of her parents before joining them. Ron had asked permission from his family to stay with them as well, and they had given their blessing, asking Remus and Sirius to give them frequent updates regarding the health of their children. (They considered Draco, Hermione, and the twins to be part of the family, now.)

The twins gave him tremulous smiles, and he gave them a grim one in return. Remus held up their portkey, a length of sturdy rope, and everyone gathered close.

“To No. 12 Grimmauld Place,” Sirius said once they were all touching it. With a stomach-wrenching lurch, they disappeared from Hogwarts for what might be the last time.

-o-0-o-

Severus stalked through the halls of Malfoy Manor, trying to ignore his silent shadow. Finally, he stopped dead outside the door to his personal potions lab and asked shortly, “Why are you still following me?”

Barty moved to stand in his peripheral vision, head cocked to the side. “The Dark Lord hasn’t given me new orders yet. So for the time being, it’s still my job to protect you.”

Severus turned his head so fast his neck popped. “I do not need _protection_ ,” he hissed.

Barty stared at him for a long moment, head still cocked. Finally, he wet his lips with a quick dart of his tongue. “I think you need it more than you think. Last night, for instance…”

Severus flinched, opening the door quickly and stalking inside. The Dark Lord had been very… _enthusiastic_ about celebrating their victory and Dumbledore’s death. The first night, he had nearly wept with relief at how gentle and caring his lover had been. But then, last night…

“I’m sorry,” Barty whispered, almost below hearing.

“For what?” Severus snapped, picking up a size three pewter cauldron and slamming it on the work table with a heavy _bang_.

“I…never mind,” Barty sighed.

Severus turned his back to the unwanted presence and began setting up everything he would need to brew a batch of Pepperup Potion. It was simple, but time consuming. Exactly what he needed right now.

He worked in peace for almost an hour before Barty spoke again.

“You know,” Barty said conversationally, “I joined the Dark Lord because of you.”

Severus stiffened, hands almost forgetting to stir before years of training took over and he continued before the potion could be ruined.

“He also promised me things that I wanted, of course, but I never would have gone to him if it weren’t for you.”

“Having second thoughts?” Severus growled.

“Every single day,” Barty stated blandly.

Severus turned his head, eyes wide and incredulous. Was he _mad_ , admitting that to Severus of all people!?

Barty stared back calmly. “I often ask myself if you were worth it. Somehow I always convince myself the answer is yes, even though you’ve never given me the time of day.”

Severus cast a hurried stasis charm on the cauldron and turned to face Barty fully. “What are you getting at, Crouch?”

Barty looked away, a slight flush appearing on his cheeks. “Surely you can guess?”

Severus inhaled deeply, panic rushing to fill his chest. _He’s mad. If the Dark Lord finds out…_

Barty looked at him again. “I…”

“STOP!” Severus cried, raising one hand as if to ward off the words.

“…love you.”

-o-0-o-

Once they had settled into their various rooms in the narrow, dark house, everyone gathered at the kitchen table to discuss what they should do next.

“So we have two horcruxes to find, possibly three, and we need to find the new focus of the prophecy,” Remus said. “Am I missing anything?”

Harry and Henry exchanged looks. They had kept the new prophecy a secret from their friends and had not ever found the time to research and find out who it might be referencing. Grimmauld Place was the safest place they would find, now. Dumbledore had even helped Sirius update the wards before he died, and it was under the Fidelius Charm with Sirius as the Secret-Keeper.

Taking a deep breath, they spoke together, “The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches, born to those who have thrice denied him, born as the new year dies. And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal and he will have power the Dark Lord knows not. And either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the new year dies.”

The others all gaped at them for a long moment, before demanding that they repeat it again. Hermione had the sense to grab quill and parchment to write it down on the third repetition, and made duplicate copies with a short wave of her wand. They all stared at it for several minutes before Harry spoke.

“We heard it from Trelawney the summer after second year. We never told anyone, because we didn’t want Dumbledore to use this person the way he tried to use us. The only problem is…we never got around to figuring it out. So much happened this year and we rather…forgot.” He gave them a sheepish look, while Hermione scowled at them both.

“I wish you had told me when you were asking for help with that potion,” she said. “I could have researched it when I had spare time.”

“Hermione,” Henry admonished, “You were busier than three of us put together this year. I find it hard to believe you had time for anything other than studying and homework.”

She blushed, but didn’t argue.

“I just hope this doesn’t refer to someone who will literally be _born_ as the new year dies. We’ll be in trouble if we have to wait for a child to grow up and defeat Voldemort,” Remus said seriously.

They all grew quiet at the thought.

“If that’s the case, there’s hardly anything we can do,” Sirius said reasonably. “I’m glad you told us about this, pups. If we can figure this out, it will go a long way to finding the person we need.”

“Just promise we aren’t going to send them to fight Voldemort whether they want to or not,” Harry said, a worried frown marring his face.

“Of course not!” Remus cried. The others objected loudly.

“We’ll go down fighting with them,” Draco said simply, expressing the sentiment they were all feeling. “No matter who it is.”

Everyone nodded in agreement and they studied the parchments in front of them again.

“It’s no use,” Ron moaned several minutes later. “Whether it’s horcruxes or a hero, it’s like looking for a needle in a haystack.”

“Well, we definitely need to find people born at the end or beginning of the year,” Hermione mused. “It can’t be too many people, right? There aren’t that many wizards in Britain.”

“But can we rule out any wizards from other countries?” Remus asked. “Who’s to say it’s not some random student from Beauxbatons or Durmstrang?”

“There’s no way for us to make that kind of list off the top of our heads,” Draco said.

“The Ministry would have the information we need,” Ron said, perking up. Everyone looked at him, and he shrank in on himself a bit. “Every wizard is added to the records when they purchase their first wand, regardless of country.”

“Almost like a wizarding census!” Hermione exclaimed. “Can we just send in a letter asking for the information we need?”

“That would take too long,” Harry said, frowning. “If the Ministry is in danger from Voldemort any day now, we need to get the info as soon as possible.”

“Madame Bones could get it for us,” Henry said.

Sirius snapped his fingers, and a miserly old house elf suddenly appeared beside the table. The elf was wringing its hands around a golden necklace of some sort, looking at them with wide eyes. “Master has called Kreacher?”

“What have you got, you wretched elf?” Sirius snapped, seeing the necklace and forgetting for the moment why he had called the elf.

“Kreacher was listening to the blood traitors talking,” he said. The elf hesitated before proffering the necklace to Sirius. “You are trying to destroy the Dark Lord’s horcruxes?”

Sirius took the necklace with a puzzled look, rubbing his thumb over the stylized ‘S’ on the front. “A locket?”

“Slytherin’s locket!” Harry and Henry exclaimed in unison.

Everyone started speaking at once, asking Kreacher how he had found it, why he had it, and why the elf was being so helpful. Finally Remus put two fingers to his lips and whistled loudly to silence them all.

“Why don’t you start at the beginning, Kreacher,” he told the elf gently.

The elf sneered at being addressed in such a manner by “a filthy werewolf” but told his tale nonetheless. They all listened with rapt attention to how the Dark Lord had used him to test the protections on the cave where the locket was hidden. When Sirius heard that Kreacher had returned to the cave with Regulus, he made an odd strangled noise in the back of his throat. 

“Master Regulus insisted on drinking the potion,” Kreacher sobbed, fat tears rolling down his wrinkled face. “He ordered Kreacher to make him keep drinking, no matter what. When the basin was empty, Kreacher took the locket. Master Regulus was too weak to leave and he ordered Kreacher to escape. Kreacher tried to stay, but then the inferi came…” The elf covered its face with its hands and continued to cry. It wasn’t hard to imagine what came next.

Harry and Henry shuddered. It was possible that one of those bodies they had fought in the cave had been Sirius’ dead brother. It was a horrifying thought.

“Siri…” Remus whispered.

Sirius pushed away from the table abruptly, dropping the locket onto it with a dull thump. “I need to be alone,” he said. He turned and left the room. They all remained silent as they listened to his retreating footsteps.

“Thank you for telling us, Kreacher,” Draco said. The elf perked up, seeing a “proper” master in the young Malfoy. “Do you think you could deliver a letter for us—it’s very urgent.”

“It will help Master to defeat the Dark Lord?” Kreacher asked hopefully.

They all nodded.

Kreacher’s eyes filled with tears once more. “Kreacher would do anything. Kreacher tried many, many times to destroy the locket as Master Regulus ordered, but Kreacher was unable to do it. Kreacher is a bad elf!” He started twisting his ears and Draco hurriedly stopped him.

“It’s all right, Kreacher,” he said. “You did try. We’ll take care of it now, we promise.”

Kreacher looked at them all with hero worship in his eyes. “You give Kreacher letter, and Kreacher will deliver it right now!”

Hermione hurriedly scribbled a note on her parchment and addressed it to Madame Bones before handing it to the elf.

“Give this directly to Amelia Bones,” Draco ordered. “And don’t let anyone else see you deliver it or read the message.”

“Yes, yes! Kreacher will do as Master asks!”

With a pop, the elf disappeared.

The remainder of the group stayed around the table, staring at the locket in the middle. Henry twitched once, sure he heard faint whispers coming from it.

“How does once destroy a horcrux?” Hermione finally asked.

“Dumbledore told us you could only use either basilisk venom or fiendfyre to do it,” Harry said. “We could get some venom from the basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets.”

“Too bad we didn’t know before we left,” Remus sighed. “You two come with me and we’ll destroy the locket in the chamber.”

The twins stood and the trio flooed back to Hogwarts to take care of Slytherin’s heirloom. In the Chamber, the listened to the screams of the dying soul as the venom ate through the casing to the interior. Remus grimaced, filling several vials with more venom they could use on the remaining horcruxes. These he entrusted to the twins.

The destroyed locket remained in the chamber, a now pock-marked relic of a time long past.

-o-0-o-

Voldemort panted as he entered the safety of his rooms in the Manor. His magic had been trembling within him for the last hour. He had tried to cast _crucio_ on an errant Death Eater and his magic had spasmed just after the spell hit, cutting it off abruptly. The fool had luckily run away before he could realize there was something wrong with the Dark Lord himself.

He moved to look at himself in the mirror on the wall and found nothing out of the ordinary. So _what was wrong_?

A spasm in his magic caused an echo in his body and he doubled over, gasping. He tightened his control over the magic, to no avail. Within moments a cloud of it had seeped out of his skin in a dark and oily shroud. Then, with a _snap_ , his magic surged out and back in again. He was suddenly so very, very exhausted. It felt like he had used all of his magic up, which was impossible. Looking up, he stared in the mirror in surprise. On the floor behind him was the wide-eyed form of Lucius Malfoy.

Turning, Voldemort surveyed the other man in contemplation. Was there a time limit on the magic? That was unfortunate, to be sure. Especially with the side effects he was currently feeling. He moved a few steps closer to Lucius, curious to find out how the other man was faring.

“No…” Lucius whispered, eyes going, if possible, even wider.

“You dare?” Voldemort hissed.

Lucius shook his head, scrambling away from the approaching Dark Lord with weak limbs. “N-No! D-don’t!”

Voldemort’s eyes narrowed and he raised his wand, not even remembering when it came into his hand.

“NO!” Lucius screamed. “NO~!”

Voldemort stopped, staring. Lord Malfoy had been reduced to hysteria by his mere presence. It was flattering, yes, but inconceivable.

“Calm yourself,” he ordered.

Lucius continued screaming.

Reaching down, Voldemort took Lucius by the front of his expensive robes and lifted him bodily off the floor. “SILENCE.”

Lucius kept screaming, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. Within moments, he had fainted dead away.

Grimacing with disgust, Voldemort dropping Lucius back to the floor and wondered what to do with the man. It was unclear if the man would ever be able to function normally again. Pity.

Grabbing some random trinket placed on a side table, he cast _portus_ on it and tossed it onto Malfoy’s still form. Let St. Mungo’s deal with him, then.

Turning to his bed, Voldemort slowly disrobed and climbed between the sheets, silently casting _nox_ on the lights. It had been an interesting experiment, but it clearly needed some work. There must be a way to cast the spell without experiencing such unfortunate side effects. Perhaps there truly was something to the compatibility of magic. He grimaced. No, the dark mark should compensate for that. He would figure it out. He always did.

-o-0-o-


	34. Tactics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve joined **Pottermore**. If you’d like to add me as a friend, my username is FelicisLeviosa29841. I’m a Slytherin. :D (And Bats is somehow the Ravenclaw…we got switched up somehow. Ah well, I always thought of myself as a Slytherclaw anyway.) If you *do* add me, I’d appreciate it if you’d leave a review or a PM with your username so I can assign you a nickname on the website. Makes it much easier to manage these things. (I’ve also posted this to my profile for easy access.)

On the first of June, Harry and Henry came downstairs into the kitchen of Grimmauld Place and stopped dead at the sight before them.

The long wooden table, chairs, most of the floor, and even some of the counter space was covered in sheets of parchment. In the middle of it all, Hermione was standing with her normally frizzy hair puffed out around her head as she tugged it in obvious frustration.

“It’s. Just. Too. Long!” she snarled to the empty room.

“Er…Hermione?” Henry asked.

She spun to look at them, her eyes wild. “It’s the list. From Madame Bones. Eighteen thousand five hundred and sixty five wizards and witches born between December twenty-second and January tenth! From every country. All of them still living. I don’t even know where to start!” Her hands went into her hair again as she surveyed the mess around her, and Henry thought he saw her wand stuck in the frizz toward the back of her head.

Henry stepped forward, neatly avoiding the pages littering the floor so he could take Hermione by the arms. “First, you don’t have to do it alone. Second, why don’t we break it up into smaller pieces to make it more manageable?”

“Smaller pieces…” Hermione nodded, still wide-eyed.

“For instance,” Henry said a little more forcibly, giving her a slight shake so she would look at him, “The prophecy says _he_ will have a power the Dark Lord knows not, so right there we can knock out half those people, probably more. And I think we all agree this bloke is more likely to be British. So we can pull those people’s names first, and sort them alphabetically by day born. Then each of us takes a stack and we look for likely candidates.”

“’Born to those who have thrice denied him,’” Hermione said, nodding excitedly now. “Oh, Henry, thank you! I was about to go mad in here.”

He let her go, smiling ruefully. “We’re not in school anymore, Hermione. This isn’t like a homework assignment you have to solve by yourself. We’re here to help you.”

She blushed slightly, her own wry smile mirroring his.

“Still, the spellwork for all that sounds tricky,” Harry put in. “I think I’ll leave you two to it.”

They gave him identical exasperated looks before turning to face the mess. Henry pulled out his wand and watched with amusement while Hermione searched for hers. “It’s, er…in your hair,” he finally offered.

“Oh.” She made a vexed noise as she wrestled it free. Sirius had told them that the wards on Grimmauld Place prevented the Trace from alerting the Ministry of any underage use of magic. It was apparently standard pureblood practice, much to Hermione’s irritation. “Right. First, we take out all the witches.” A wave of her wand and thousands of lines of text on each page lifted free and vanished in a rush of golden light. “Then, we condense what’s left…” she muttered. Another wave and the lines all wriggled to fill up the smallest number of pages possible. The blank pages were vanished, leaving the counters and the floor empty. The remaining list still spilled off the table onto the chairs.

“Then we sort them by country,” Henry continued, waving his own wand. The lines wriggled between pages again, then settled into neat individual stacks that once again covered most of the kitchen. Unsurprisingly, the stack for Britain was one of the largest. “I’ll stack the other countries alphabetically and set them aside.” He did so, and they were left just with the several dozen pages for Britain sitting in the middle of the kitchen table.

“And then it’s just alphabetical by day!” Hermione chirped, looking much more enthusiastic now that the project was manageable. She swished her wand and the lines wriggled onto separate pages again, dividing into twenty new stacks of parchment.

“How many names are left, then?” Harry asked, moving into the kitchen now that the sorting was done.

Henry cast a counting charm on the parchments and they all grimaced at the number that hovered in mid-air over the table: _876._

“T-that’s ten percent!” Hermione gasped after doing some quick math in her head. “Is the wizarding population really that concentrated in Britain?”

“Britain is the center of wizarding history,” Draco said, coming into the kitchen with his blond hair sticking up slightly, clearly having just woken up. “We were the first to focus on training our magic to be more effective. The Orient and Africa probably hold a large percentage as well, given the age of their magical traditions.”

“I’d have thought America would be the largest, though,” Hermione mused.

Draco smiled lazily at her. “They have sheer numbers, of course, but their magical traditions are an amalgamation of dozens of different cultures. You have to remember that most Americans originally came from somewhere else, or their families did. But most of those families weren’t magical to begin with, so the concentration of magic is still fairly low. I think most American magic has been inherited from the Native Americans.”

“That makes sense,” she said, nodding thoughtfully.

“So how should be divide this up?” Harry asked, studying the stacks. “There’s twenty of them and only six of us.”

“I think we should start with those names closest to the New Year,” Hermione said.

“I’ll take December thirty-first and you take January first,” Henry decided. “Then Harry, you take January second, and Draco you take December thirtieth. We’ll give stacks to the others later.”

They each grabbed their assigned stack and set to work. It was only a couple of minutes before Draco asked, “What exactly are we looking for, here?”

Though the answer should have been obvious, it clearly wasn’t.

“Well,” Harry said slowly, “The prophecy says that the person’s parents would deny Voldemort three times. So I guess we’re looking for someone whose family Voldemort wanted on his side, but they never joined.”

They were all quiet for a moment, thinking about that. “Then, aren’t we looking for a pureblood family, or a Dark family?” Hermione asked hesitantly.

Draco frowned. “Maybe the Dark Lord will be defeated by someone who is or should be loyal to him?”

They all exchanged excited looks. That certainly narrowed it down.

“I wouldn’t rule out anyone not Dark or pureblood, though,” Henry said with disappointment in his voice. “The Dark Lord himself is a halfblood. It’s possible this person is as well. Though it does seem incredibly unlikely that they would be a muggleborn.”

They went back to their lists, armed with quills and an idea of who they were looking for now. The arrival of Ron, Remus, and Sirius interrupted them before any names could be circled as possibilities, though.

“What’s all this?” Ron asked, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“The list from Madame Bones,” Draco told him warmly. “Good morning.”

A chorus of good mornings followed as the remaining three members of the house joined them around the table.

“Has anyone seen the Prophet yet?” Remus asked as he made a pot of coffee. 

“Not yet,” Hermione said. “I’ve been up the longest, and except for the owl from Madame Bones there hasn’t been any post.”

“Strange,” Remus frowned. “It’s late.”

Just then a tapping came from the kitchen window and he hurried over to let in the Prophet owl, dropping five knuts into the pouch around the bird’s ankle. As soon as the bird had left and he unfurled the paper, he let out a low whistle.

“No wonder it’s late.” He turned the paper so they could see the headline. “Special edition.”

_Lucius Malfoy Admitted to St. Mungo’s!  
Authorities say that Lord Malfoy has remained mentally unstable  
since his arrival in the hospital late on the night of May 21st._

Draco had turned white, his fingers clenched around the pages in his hands so that they crinkled loudly in his hands. Suddenly he stood and ran from the kitchen. They heard the distant sound of the fireplace roaring to life and the distinct whoosh of the floo.

“Draco…” Ron whispered, half-standing from his seat.

“Go, Ron,” Hermione told him urgently. “It’s not safe for him to go alone. And I _can’t_ go.”

He nodded, and ran after his boyfriend.

The remaining members of the group studied the paper in the silence left behind.

“I wonder what happened to him,” Hermione finally murmured. There was a photo of Malfoy on the front page. He was staring wide-eyed out of the frame, his mouth open in a silent scream. It was terrifying, to say the least.

“I don’t know,” Harry shrugged. “We haven’t had any visions since leaving the school.”

“It worries me,” Henry admitted. “It makes me think that Voldemort is up to something. And judging by Malfoy’s condition, it’s nothing good.”

“I wonder if there’s any way for you to tap into the connection to spy on him,” Hermione said thoughtfully.

The twins exchanged a long look. Finally, Henry shook his head. “If there is, I’m not sure we should try it. Voldemort is aware of the connection, but not the extent of it. If we start actively trying to use it, he might be able to use it spy on _us_.”

“It’s too bad,” Sirius said darkly. “It would be nice to know what old snake face is up to.”

“Well, in the meantime...” Hermione plopped down stacks of parchment in front of Remus and Sirius, explaining what they were looking for. “The sooner we make a list of possible names, the sooner we can defeat the Dark Lord.”

Remus started on his list without complaint, but Sirius sighed gustily. “Can’t we eat breakfast first?” he whined.

Hermione’s lips twitched as she resisted an indulgent smile. “Oh, all right. But there are only about nine hundred names. We could have a feasible list in a day or two if we try.”

“What about the other countries?” Remus asked.

Hermione nibbled her lip as she considered the much larger stack sitting on one end of the table where Henry had left it. “I suppose if we don’t find any real possibilities in these pages, we can start on the next most likely countries—France and Bulgaria.”

“Sounds good,” Harry said, flipping to the second page in his stack.

Sirius got up from his chair to pour himself a cup of coffee. He snapped his fingers and Kreacher appeared at his feet, giving him a morose glare.

“How can Kreacher help Master?”

“Would you make us some breakfast, Kreacher?” Sirius asked, teeth clenched. He was making an effort to be nicer to the elf, but the miserable old thing still had no respect for him. It was infuriating to watch him fawn over the Malfoy heir.

“Certainly, Master,” Kreacher said, giving a passable attempt at an ingratiating smile.

The elf set to and Sirius ignored his stack of pages in favor of reading the Prophet. He gave a crow of delight when he reached the Sports section. “Listen to this!” he said. “The Quidditch World Cup will be hosted in Britain this year! Ireland versus Bulgaria!”

Hermione’s head snapped up, her eyes narrowed. “Who will be there?”

“Everyone who’s anyone!” Sirius told her incredulously. “Britain hasn’t hosted the Cup in almost fifty years!”

“Will the Minister be there?” she asked persistently.

Harry immediately saw where her thoughts were going. “That’s it, then, isn’t it?”

They all looked at him, everyone somewhat confused except for Hermione. He elaborated, “That’s when Voldemort will strike. When everyone is distracted by the Cup, he’ll take over the Ministry and Hogwarts. Britain will be in the palm of his hand, and he’ll crush us.”

There was silence around the table. Sirius looked more than a little crestfallen. “It’s not fair,” he muttered.

“What isn’t?” Henry asked.

“I was hoping we could go to the Cup and blow off a little steam, but if Voldemort is going to attack then, I’ll be stuck in the Ministry helping to protect it.”

Hermione pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Sirius, be honest. What are the odds of us being able to stop Voldemort from taking the Ministry?”

He shrugged uncomfortably, looking down at the table as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Slim to none,” he admitted.

“Then there’s no sense in so many Aurors losing their lives in a pointless fight,” Hermione decided. She stood and started to pace along one side of the kitchen. “I think we need to start seriously considering our plans for the war. Once the Ministry falls, we’ll have to be in hiding and on the run. Voldemort will want to wipe out any remaining opposition. He’ll also be able to start enforcing the laws that he wants in place, so muggleborns will be in great danger.” She nibbled her lip and continued to pace back and forth across the kitchen.

“Guerrilla warfare,” Harry said decisively.

Hermione stopped dead and stared at him.

“Hit and run tactics. Never let them lure us into a pitched battle. We can identify key targets and make sure they never get the supplies they need to develop an advantage. We’ll need safe houses—lots of them. For us to hide in as well as muggleborns and their families. We have Madame Bones on our side, so she can get us the Aurors. We’ll leave the Ministry unprotected on the night of the World Cup. Voldemort will have an easy victory, but he’ll be uneasy not knowing where his enemies have run off to. He’ll be frustrated when the Death Eaters can’t find us. Then, when they least expect it, we strike. All we have to do is keep them off balance while we find the rest of the horcruxes and sort through this list.”

“Slughorn,” Henry said excitedly. “He has a whole network of Slug Club alumni. He can get us trustworthy people to hide muggleborns and the Aurors.”

“There are quite a few other Black properties,” Sirius volunteered. “The Black Manor is big enough it could house all of Hogwarts. We’re definitely not going to run out of space.”

“You say it could house Hogwarts?” Hermione asked, moving to lean on the table with excitement. “Because I’ve been thinking—that’s the key to Voldemort’s success. If he has control of the children, their parents will just go along with what he wants. But if we can intercept them before they get to Hogwarts at the beginning of the school year…”

Remus’ eyes lit up. “We can move the students to a new school where they will be safe and protected! The parents will know they’re safe, and they won’t cooperate so easily.”

They all fell silent, the enormity of their plans finally hitting them. It was perfect.

“There’s only one problem,” Sirius said grimly. “We need an absolutely foolproof way of determining if someone is trustworthy. One spy and this all falls apart. All our safe houses, the children, everything. And the Fidelius Charm can only do so much.”

“We have time,” Hermione said firmly. “We can work on it.”

“In the meantime, there are these lists,” Harry said ruefully.

“Breakfast is ready,” Kreacher said, levitating plates of food over to the table. They all set aside their papers in favor of food.

Sirius stared at the little elf for a long moment, before saying, “Kreacher…”

The elf looked up at him with his head cocked to the side.

“You’ve just heard all of our plans. What do you plan to do with that information?”

Kreacher looked at him seriously. “Master will not swear Kreacher to secrecy?”

Sirius hesitated, then shook his head. 

“Kreacher will keep Master’s secrets. Master will defeat the Dark Lord and fulfill Kreacher’s promise to Master Regulus. That is enough for Kreacher.”

Sirius, for the first time in his memory, smiled at the elf. “Thank you, Kreacher,” he said sincerely.

Kreacher stared at him for a long moment, before bowing low. “Kreacher lives to serve you, Lord Black.”

Sirius inhaled sharply, almost a gasp.

“What just happened?” Harry asked.

“Kreacher acknowledged Sirius as Lord Black,” Remus said, giving his lover a fond and proud look. “Sirius finally proved himself worthy of the title.”

“Hey!” Sirius said, giving the werewolf a mock-glare. 

Remus just raised an eyebrow and went back to his breakfast.

Henry continued going through his list as they ate and the dishes were magicked away by Kreacher. He was determined to get through his first stack as quickly as possible. He had only circled a few names so far, which was encouraging.

And then he reached “R” in the list and he stopped dead as he read the one name he had not been expecting to read.

“Tom Marvolo Riddle,” he said softly. “Born December 31, 1926.”

“But that’s…” Hermione started.

“The Dark Lord,” Harry finished.

“It’s impossible,” Henry said resolutely, crossing out the name. “The man has devoted himself to living forever. He’s not going to off himself.”

“Plus, there’s the whole ‘thrice deny him’ thing,” Harry agreed.

Henry paused, his pen hovering over the page. “His family _did_ deny him. I don’t know if it was three times, but…remember our lessons with Dumbledore, Harry?”

Harry nodded. “His father left his mother while she was pregnant, so that’s once he was denied. And we know he found and killed them in his sixth year—that’s how the ring was made into a horcrux. So that’s at least twice.”

“It’s possible he may die unintentionally, rather than actually killing himself,” Remus reminded them. “I’ll admit, it’s an unlikely ending, but I don’t think we should completely write it off.”

Resigned, Henry circled the crossed-out name and continued down the list.

“I wish Draco and Ron would come back,” Hermione muttered. “This would go faster with their help.”

Harry, sitting beside her, reached over and grasped her hand. “They’ll be fine. They can take care of themselves.”

She squeezed his hand, hard, and didn’t let go for a long time.

-o-0-o-

Ron watched on from a little distance away as Draco approached his father in the bed in Ward 49. Lucius’ wrists were bound to the bed at his sides and he was restlessly shifting his head back and forth, staring around with wide eyes as though expecting his worst nightmare to manifest beside him at any moment.

“Father?” Draco said softly, moving close enough to stand in Lucius’ path of sight. “Father, it’s me, it’s Draco.”

“Draco…” Lucius whispered. The wildness in his eyes calmed slightly and he stared intently at his son, no longer shifting his head in search of enemies. “Draco. You’re alive.”

“Yes, Father. I’m here.” Draco reached out and gently grasped his father’s hand where it lay bound. “I’m here.”

Lucius’ eyes filled with tears, and he blinked furiously to clear them so he could see his son. “Draco. Alive. I told him…I told him…”

“It doesn’t matter, Father,” Draco whispered. He sat in the chair beside the bed and tightened his grip on his father’s hand. “I’m alive, and I’m here. You’re going to be all right.”

Lucius’ face flooded with relief and his eyes closed. Sobs wracked his body and his fingers turned white with the force of his grip on Draco’s hand. “Draco. Draco…I told him…I couldn’t…I can’t…”

“Shh…” Draco hushed him, reaching out his other hand to smooth Lucius’ long hair away from his face. “It’s all right. It’ll all be fine.”

“I love you,” Lucius whispered fiercely, opening his eyes again. They were red-rimmed and intense as he stared at his son. Draco froze. “I love you. Never…never said it before. Proud of you.”

Draco’s head bowed and Ron quietly backed away and left the room. He would leave the Malfoys to cry together in peace. 

He didn’t go far, not trusting Draco to be safe alone. There were some benches in the hallway and he paused there to sit and wait for Draco to finish with his father. 

“Ron?”

Turning, he was surprised to see Neville. “Hey, how’s it going?” he asked, standing once more to clasp hands with his roommate.

“Good, good,” Neville said distractedly, looking at the door to the ward. “What are you doing here?”

“Draco is visiting his father. I thought I would step outside to give them some privacy.”

Neville blanched. “M-Malfoy is in Ward 49?”

Ron nodded, confused.

Neville rushed to the door and entered the ward. Ron followed him, curious about his friend’s odd behavior. Neville had run to the end of the ward and stopped between two beds. One held a pretty middle-aged woman, and the other a man of the same age who looked remarkably similar to Neville.

Ron felt his breath stop. Neville’s parents, Frank and Alice Longbottom, were in the same ward as Lucius Malfoy. Neville’s parents, who had been tortured into insanity by Death Eaters. No wonder the other boy was so worried. What had they been thinking, putting Lucius in the same room?

He walked hurriedly down to the end of the ward in time to see Alice Longbottom hand Neville a gum wrapper with a gentle smile. Neville folded it carefully and put it in his pocket.

“Is everything all right?” Ron asked him.

Neville nodded. “They don’t know any better,” he whispered. “Maybe it would be different if it were Bellatrix in here instead of Malfoy, but I think it’s safe to say we’ll never have to find out.”

Ron clasped his shoulder and turned to check on Draco and his father. They were still sitting where he had left them, and it looked like Draco was speaking quietly to his almost-normal looking father.

He looked around at the other residents of the ward and grimaced. What would happen to them when the Dark Lord took over? Would he keep St. Mungo’s running? He would be a fool not to, but…

“Hey, Neville,” Ron said without thinking. The other boy looked at him expectantly and he scuffed his toe against the floor. “I don’t know how much you know about what happened at the end of the school year, but…I would make sure your parents are in a safe place if I were you.”

Neville considered him seriously before looking at his parents again. “You’re saying that St. Mungo’s might not be a safe place soon?”

“Yeah…”

Neville nodded. “I’ll talk to my gran about it. She ought to be here shortly, she sent me on ahead.”

Ron nodded, and shuffled his feet awkwardly. Perhaps it was time to leave again. He turned to go, but Neville’s voice stopped him.

“Hey, Ron?”

He turned to look back and found Neville giving him a look of respect and appreciation. “Thanks.”

Ron nodded, a little surprised. “No problem, mate. If I hear anything, I’ll let you know.”

Neville nodded and turned back to his parents.

Ron left the ward, sitting heavily on the bench outside. He felt…determined? No, resolved. He had made a decision, standing there with Neville’s gaze weighing heavily on him. There was no more time to be afraid. He knew what he wanted, and he was going to reach for it with both hands. He settled in to wait for Draco, an absent smile lingering on his lips.

Now was the time to stand up and become the person he wanted to be.

-o-0-o-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With all this introspection and talking going on, this is getting to be a longer ending than I had intended. Ah well. All the better for it. I think next chapter I’ll be back on track, so maybe we’re still looking at around 36 chapters, but maybe longer. We’ll see. Please review and tell me what you think!


	35. The Fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It shames me to realize that it has been more than a year since I updated this fic. And so close to the ending, too! This time last year I was finishing up thesis things and getting ready for graduation. Then I went through a breakup, moved back in with my family, got another job I hated, and applied to doctoral school. My aim is to finish this before I begin my PhD in August. 
> 
> Also, there is another LEMON in this chapter!!

Horace Slughorn smiled with delight upon seeing the letter from the Potter twins. He opened it immediately, his grin quickly replaced by a furrowed brow and a frown.

Dear Professor,

We are in need of your Slug Club. Enclosed you will find directions to our location. Please burn it after you read it.

Sincerely,  
Harry and Henry Potter

P.S. First meeting at 10 o’clock sharp.

He looked at the small slip of paper that had fluttered out from between the pages and read it with a small smile:

The Headquarters of the Potter Brigade  
are located at  
No. 12 Grimmauld Place, London

With a flash of fire, the slip of paper disappeared from his fingers.

-o-0-o-

When Amelia Bones received a missive from the Potter twins just after nine, she immediately told her secretary to block the calendar from ten to twelve. The slip of paper that accompanied the letter was thrown into the fireplace, where she watched to make sure every curl of ink and parchment was turned to ash before tackling her duties for the day.

The Aurors were due for a surprise test anyway, something her squad leaders could handle without her help for an hour or two.

-o-0-o-

Everyone gathered in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, each one anxious for the meeting they had scheduled with their allies for that morning. Ron and Draco were studiously working their way through the last few days of names—Ron doing January ninth and tenth, while Draco tackled December twenty-second and twenty-third. They had a list of names gathered from the other days already, and everyone agreed that the focus of the prophecy wasn’t as likely to have a birthday so far out from the New Year, but they were checking just to make sure.

Harry was speaking quietly with Remus, Sirius, and Henry, but he couldn’t help occasionally shooting glances at where Ron sat at the end of the table. His friend had changed since coming back from St. Mungo’s with Draco. He was more mellow, more focused, and had proven to have some great ideas which he’d brought to the table as they settled their plans.

A knock sounded on the front door out in the foyer, and the portrait of Walburga Black began wailing and shrieking about "blood traitors" in her house. Sirius left the kitchen quickly, flicking a silencing charm at his mother's portrait before the sound of the front door opening and closing was heard.

A moment later, Amelia Bones entered the kitchen with a large folder held in her arms. "Hello, everyone!" she said brightly. "Who else are we waiting for?"

"Professor Slughorn," Hermione answered with a smile for the older witch. "Can I fix you a cup of tea?"

"That would be lovely, dear," Madame Bones said, picking one of the empty chairs and settling into it with a relaxed air.

Another knock sounded from the foyer and Sirius disappeared again.

Madame Bones noted Ron and Draco working their way through the pages of names and asked, "Is that the list I sent you?"

"The last of the names for Britain," Draco agreed, flipping to the last page. Ron made a similar motion a second later.

"I should have thought to sort it along those lines before I sent it," Amelia said ruefully. She took her cup of tea from Hermione with a small thanks just as Horace and Sirius entered the kitchen.

"Hello, hello!" Slughorn boomed. "How wonderful to see you all again! I trust..."

Ron's voice cut him off. "Oh my God!"

"What, what is it?" Hermione asked, rushing around the table to see what set him off.

Ron pointed numbly at a name on his list. It was near the top of the page.

"Severus Tobias Snape," Hermione gasped. "Born 9 January 1960."

Harry and Henry turned to stare at one another in the same moment. "'And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal," they said together, remembering the small crown that had been added to Snape's dark mark almost a year ago.

"Well," Amelia said with a bemused expression. "I can tell this is going to be a fascinating meeting."

-o-0-o-

They apprised Horace and Amelia of their grand plan to secret away the main targets of the Dark Lord in safe houses and the need for a loyalty test of some kind so they knew who was safe to tell their secrets to.

Those names they had selected from the list were discussed, but since it now seemed clear that the person they needed on their side was Severus Snape, discussion was fleeting and served only to solidify their decision about what to do with the man.

“We’ll have to wait him out,” Amelia said firmly. “He’s loyal to the Dark Lord now, but perhaps that is changing, or it will change. I know Severus, and he’s a stubborn man. If we try to turn him ourselves he’ll simply about face and return to his master.”

“But surely we can try to get some kind of reading from him,” Hermione said. “It won’t do us any good to wait if he doesn’t know we’re willing to take him in if needed.”

Henry shook his head. “Snape would see any offer of aid to be highly suspicious coming from us. He’s just killed Dumbledore, he’s the Dark Lord’s right hand. Why would anyone on our side of the war offer him amnesty? He’d discard it offhand as a trap.”

Hermione nodded reluctantly.

“Do we have any contact within the Death Eaters that we can trust?” Ron asked. “If we can have them keep an eye on things and let us know if anything happens, then we’ll know when to approach Snape for the best result.”

“The Aurors don’t have anyone,” Amelia said sadly. “Our agents were no good at hiding their true intentions from the Dark Lord. After I lost a few too many good men and women, I decided it wasn’t worth it.”

“Most of the students I knew who became Death Eaters are from the older generation,” Horace offered. “The ones from Hogwarts now didn’t trust me enough to reveal that they had joined the Dark Lord’s side.”

Draco sighed, running a hand through his hair. “My father is still in St. Mungo’s, but my mother is presumably still hosting the Dark Lord in the Manor. She might be able to help us, but I have no way to contact her safely. A letter is too easy to intercept.”

“Has she visited your father in the hospital?” Harry asked.

Draco shook his head.

“Send her a letter saying that Lucius is doing poorly and wants to see her,” Ron offered. “At the very least, that’s not suspicious and might let you see her and speak to her.”

There were murmurs of agreement around the table.

“It’s worth a try,” Draco agreed.

“As to the safe houses, it would be best to devise our loyalty test first and approach my Slug Club contacts individually to determine their usefulness,” Horace said. “Have any of you given thought to what we need for the test?”

“It needs to be simple,” Hermione said, “Something that doesn’t require hitting a target or getting them to drink it to learn the truth. Something that makes it apparent at a glance whether someone is loyal to the Dark Lord or not.”

“I wonder if we could make something that reacts to the Dark Mark,” Harry said with a touch of excitement in his voice. “That would work, wouldn’t it?”

“But that doesn’t help us identify people like Abe who are just supporters but don’t bear the Mark,” Henry argued. “And if it needs to be visual, then something that changes color based on the result seems simplest.”

“What about a combination?” Ron asked. “Something that changes to black if a person bears the Mark, combined with a truth potion so you can ask if they support the Dark Lord as well. That way, we won’t rule someone out for the opposite problem of them bearing the Mark but not actually being loyal to the Dark Lord.”

“But truth potions have to be ingested to make someone tell the truth,” Hermione said with frustration.

“Perhaps not,” Horace said, stroking his upper lip thoughtfully. “What about a vaporized truth potion combined with a Dark Mark detector?”

Hermione picked up a quill and started doing some calculations on a bit of parchment she had in front of her on the table. The arithmantic calculations went right over Harry and Ron’s heads, but Draco and Henry leaned in close along with the adults to see what she was writing.

It took about ten minutes of shared calculations for anyone to speak again. “It might work,” Hermione conceded. “But it will take time, and I don’t think I have the skill to do it myself.”

“I am at your disposal,” Horace said, bowing slightly at the waist. “I am free for the summer until school starts again—though I hope to be teaching at the Black Academy rather than Hogwarts given our predictions for this summer.”

“The Black Academy,” Sirius said, stroking his chin with a grin. “That has a nice ring to it!”

Remus smacked him upside the head, bringing him back to earth.

“If you’re free, Professor, perhaps you ought to just stay here in Grimmauld until we get everything arranged for the Academy and the safe houses,” Harry offered.

“You’re certainly free to take one of the spare rooms,” Sirius said.

“I think I shall!” Horace exclaimed. “Thank you!”

With their business largely concluded, they arranged for another meeting in two weeks’ time and broke apart to work on their various projects.

Harry and Henry had taken over the task of finding and destroying the horcruxes. With the locket gone, they were left with just the cup and the piece inside of Henry. The only problem was that they had no idea where to find the cup. Neither of them had wanted to add to the troubles piling up on the group by bringing up the problem of Henry being a horcrux, either.

They had been through all of the notes Dumbledore had on the subject, but nothing gave them a clue about where Hufflepuff’s cup might be located. And it was clear that Dumbledore hadn’t had any more idea how to free Henry of his piece without killing him.

“Maybe we should just leave it for now,” Harry suggested, lying on his stomach in the bed in their shared room on the third floor of the house.

Henry looked over at him incredulously from where he was sitting at the desk below the window.

“I’m just thinking,” Harry elaborated, “Maybe once we have Snape on our side again he’ll already know where the cup is. And if we have to wait for that, it won’t hurt to wait and figure out what to do about you.”

Henry sighed, pushing back from the desk. “You’re right.”

Harry studied his brother’s profile for several long moments. Finally, he folded up the notes in front of him and tucked them inside a book he had been referencing. The book was dropped with a bang onto the floor beside the bed, making Henry jump and look at him questioningly.

“Come here,” Harry said simply, rolling onto his side and patting the space beside him in the bed.

Henry obliged, allowing his brother to fold him into a warm embrace. He tucked his head into Harry’s shoulder and closed his eyes with another sigh.

“I think we should do something else for a while,” Harry said softly.

Henry opened his eyes and peered up at his brother. “What did you have in mind?”

For answer, Harry’s head dipped until their lips could meet. Warm breath mingled as they kissed languidly for several minutes.

“I was thinking,” Harry finally murmured against Hen’s lips, “That it’s your turn.”

One long arm snaked under Henry’s shirt, running up his side and across his stomach until it reached his chest. Harry tweaked one nipple, pinching the bud between his fingers as he kissed Henry a little bit more feverishly.

“Yes,” Henry gasped, giving himself up to the feelings.

Before long they were both naked and Harry was trailing hot kisses down Henry’s neck and chest while two slick fingers worked to loosen the tight ring of muscle below his spine. Henry’s knees were drawn up and back as he worked to open himself for his brother. Harry wasn’t using spit as Henry had done, but a deliciously warming substance that defied words.

“Now,” Henry finally gasped, “Please!”

Harry kissed him hard, and replaced his fingers with a lube-slicked cock. They both groaned at the first joining, and the barrier between their minds fell with a shudder. Neither of them lasted long after that as sensation bled into sensation and they rocked their way to oblivion.

-o-0-o-

With Slughorn in residence, the potion they needed to test the motives of anyone wanting to join them took only a few short weeks to complete. This was an excellent thing as the Quidditch World Cup loomed closer than ever, due to begin on 8 August. The potion Hermione and Horace came up with looked like white smoke in the thin glass vials they had prepared to hold it. When the vial was smashed, anyone in the vicinity of the vapors would inhale a potent truth serum that would last just long enough for one or two questions to be asked before losing effect.

If anyone nearby bore the Dark Mark, the smoke turned inky black and had a tendency to cling to their eyes, mouth, and nose, as they had discovered when testing it on the twins. 

Everyone was given a small pack of the vials to carry on their person at all times, and Hermione was busying herself with mass-producing enough to test the Slug Club members in the coming weeks, as well as all of the students when they ambushed the Hogwarts Express on 1 September.

Slughorn and the other adults set out to start testing the best candidates and setting up the safe houses, leaving the children to begin converting Black Manor into a proper school. Every morning, Harry, Henry, Ron, Draco, and Hermione would floo to the large property in the countryside and practice their transfiguration and charm work by cleaning various rooms of dusty furniture and transforming the more solid bits into desks and chairs for the students.

Draco and Ron focused on the creation of four dormitories, two in each wing of the huge mansion. Sirius had to come with them on the first day, to lay expansion charms on the areas they intended to use so that each year would have its own space as well as a common room for each house. After that, it was just the back-breaking labor of portioning off each space and adding the furniture needed for more than a hundred children to live day to day.

Hermione didn’t trust any of the boys with the teacher’s quarters, so took it upon herself to turn the airy rotunda in the middle of Black Manor into a balcony overlooking the foyer. A door opened from the dome into a set of quarters with every possible amenity. Five of these rooms had an extra door that she had cleverly charmed to open into any of the house common rooms or to the back of the entrance hall so that the Headmistress and the Heads of Houses could be anywhere they were needed at a moment’s notice.

That left Harry and Henry with the classrooms. In a way, their job was the most difficult as they had to account for the special needs of certain classes. Care of Magical Creatures required an outdoor space, not to mention the creatures themselves. Luckily, the Manor had a good bit of land attached to it and an ancient stable that was in good enough shape to house the larger creatures they thought they’d be able to bring in during the coming weeks.

Since Hermione was using the rotunda for the teacher’s quarters, they decided to let her place the Astronomy equipment on the roof of the dome, which left them with the rest of the building to convert into more standard classrooms.

The question of who exactly would be teaching at the Black Academy had come up in the second Potter Brigade meeting. Each of the current Hogwarts professors would need to be tested with the potion, but several positions had been left open with the deaths of Flitwick, Hagrid, and of course Dumbledore. Everyone assumed that McGonagall would be taking over as Headmistress, which meant they also needed a new Transfiguration professor. All of this on top of the fact that if anyone proved untrustworthy, they would also need replacing.

Remus and Sirius were the obvious choices to fill some of the gaps. Remus could continue Defense Against the Dark Arts and Sirius, as an animagus, would be a natural for Transfiguration. That just left Charms and Care of Magical Creatures as well as any other that were needed.

In the end, they decided not to worry about it until they could get the new Headmistress in residence.

By the time the Quidditch Cup was upon them, enough safe houses had been created to hide every Muggleborn and their family, which they did with alacrity. All of the Aurors had been tested by Amelia, with half a dozen weeded out as Death Eater spies. She left them in place, of course, and informed them that they would be security at the Cup the next day. 

The Slug Club had proved invaluable. With the Muggleborns hidden, there were still enough trustworthy people left to hide anyone else from the Wizarding world that needed to be hidden.

The Academy was completed, though none of the professors had taken up residence yet. McGonagall had been brought into the fold of the Potter Brigade and provided with the potion to test her professors. To everyone’s pleasure, every single remaining professor, including the cantankerous caretaker, Argus Filch, had been proven trustworthy and would be joining the fight at Black Academy. Professor Grubbly-Plank had been enlisted to teach Care of Magical Creatures, and Auror Proudfoot, surprisingly, would be taking over Charms.

With McGonagall also came the not-insignificant resources of the Order of the Phoenix. Though the members of the Order were not inducted in any way into the Brigade, there was a certain amount of information trading that seemed prudent since they were all aiming for the same thing.

Draco had contacted his mother, who agreed to come to St. Mungo’s on the morning of the Quidditch Cup. Most likely, this was the only time she would be guaranteed to escape from the Manor without a watchdog, as the Dark Lord would be planning his attack on the Ministry and would not notice her absence.

The morning of the Quidditch Cup Final dawned bright and crisp and the Brigade waited nervously for all the key players to get into place before they made their move. It was important for everything to look as it should when Voldemort came calling. They waited until the game had begun before Amelia ordered the Aurors to the safe house they had prepared, yet another of the Black properties put to a better use.

The game ended much more quickly than anyone could have anticipated; the snitch caught by the Bulgarian seeker, Viktor Krum, though Ireland had scored enough points by then that they still won the match. 

The festivities at the campsite near the pitch ramped up and it was nearly morning before anyone knew that the Ministry had fallen. Word first came through one of the Minister’s aides who had attempted to return to his office, only to stumble upon two Death Eaters ransacking the Minister’s files. Had they not been so intent on their task, the man might not have escaped with his life.

All hell broke loose after that. The Dark Lord announced his return, and his place as the new Minister for Magic. Within hours, new laws were being put into place.

The Brigade, jointly with the Order, began publishing their own newspaper after the Daily Prophet began printing only Death Eater propaganda. The Freedom Watch informed the populace of the truth behind the overtake of the Ministry, revealing that the Aurors were not dead and defeated as Voldemort wanted everyone to believe, but alive and well and still fighting.

In the few weeks before 1 September, however, Voldemort had managed to cow the populace, and every student who wasn’t a Muggleborn in hiding was expected to be on the train at King’s Cross when school started. This worked perfectly for the Brigade’s plans. On the morning of 1 September, the children of the group armed themselves with several dozen vials of the potion each and flooed to the station to catch the train.

They waited as all of the students boarded the train, noting the pinched looks on the first year’s faces as they said goodbye to their families. As far as those families were concerned, this might be the last time they saw their children. No one was under any illusions about who was in control of Hogwarts now. It was no longer a safe haven in the Wizarding world. 

The group of five fourth-years took the compartment at the rear of the train and waited until the train was on the move and out of London before they made their move. The train was made up of half a dozen cars, plus the engine. They moved quickly through each car, locking all of the compartment doors and forcing students in the halls to return to their seats. Then each of them took a car and went from door to door, throwing down a vial of the potion and stunning anyone who either bore the Dark Mark or answered “yes” to the question, “Do you serve the Dark Lord willingly?”

To each of the students deemed trustworthy, a portkey was given that took them and their luggage directly to the foyer of Black Academy.

Within thirty minutes, they had emptied the train of all but a few students who were faithful to the Dark Lord. The twins, Ron, Hermione, and Draco then activated their own portkeys and returned to the Academy to await the news that the train arrived in Hogsmeade nearly empty of students.

Professor McGonagall was presiding over the students who had been ushered into what had previously been a ballroom but now served as the school’s Great Hall. Once she saw the five of them enter, she relaxed and shot sparks from her wand to silence the terrified whispers of the students.

“Silence!” she cried. The whispers died to nothing as the students looked up at her hopefully. “As you can see, Hogwarts has been relocated. Due to the threat of the Dark Lord, we felt it would be safer to secret you all away where you will be safe. Each of you will be allowed to write one letter, which we will deliver to your families ourselves. This location is hidden from You-Know-Who and his followers, and I’m afraid we will have to restrict your contact with the outside world to keep you safe. You will have your classes here just as you would have had at Hogwarts. First, let’s see to the sorting of our new students and then I will introduce you to the new professors and we can serve lunch before showing you your new dormitories.”

Professor Sprout set up a stool at the front of the room, below the new head table, and set the familiar shape of the Sorting Hat upon it. A rip near the brim opened, and that year’s song echoed forth.

The hat sang of strength through hard times and encouraged them to band together to make it through the year. There were several tears surreptitiously wiped away by staff and student alike when it finished.

The sorting seemed to take no time at all. There were no fewer first years than any other year, since they had secreted away all the Muggleborns safely and procured every last first year from the train. Harry and the others were sitting at the Slytherin table and were pleased to see that despite the terrible events going on in the outside world, a good number of students were still sorted into the house of snakes.

Once every student was sorted, McGonagall announced Sirius as the new Transfiguration professor, Grubbly-Plank for Care of Magical Creatures, and Proudfoot for Charms. For the first time in their memory, she also introduced the other professors for the benefit of the first years.

“And now, lunch!” she said cheerfully when she was finished. The plates and cups on the tables before them filled at once, the food magically transported from the kitchens where the Hogwarts elves were cheerfully taking over.

“So that’s it,” Hermione sighed as she took a tong-full of salad onto her plate. “Now we just wait for Snape and hope the rest sorts itself out.”

“Hopefully it won’t take too long,” Ron agreed, already halfway through the mountain of food on his own plate.

Harry glanced aside at Henry, who was fitfully stirring his food in tiny concentric circles. He couldn’t bring himself to agree with Ron. To him, every second until the end was a precious gem. Because when the end came, he had a feeling he and Henry would be going with it.

-o-0-o-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I went back and added a scene to Chapter 33 due to a bit of a plot hole I didn’t notice. The twins did know how to destroy a horcrux, so if you are interested in seeing them destroy the locket, go take a look. Special thanks to HikariKurayami88 for pointing this out to me!


	36. The Mind of a Dark Lord

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: THERE WILL BE VIOLENCE AND DEATH IN THIS CHAPTER. Please don’t read if that upsets you. This chapter is dedicated to Atymer, who said in their review, “I do have to smile imaging Voldy's mug when the nearly empty train arrives. You think he will be upset?” Upset doesn’t begin to cover it, darling.

Severus’ hand shook as he reached across the inches separating him from Tom and stroked one finger along his lover’s side. They had won. Tom had the Ministry, and once the train of students arrived at Hogwarts in just a few hours, they would have the rest of the Wizarding world in the palm of their hand.

But somehow, it had all gone so wrong. Tom had not instilled doctrines intended to separate Wizarding society from Muggle. He had not removed Muggleborns from their families or created an all-magical orphanage to take them in. He had not, in fact, done much lawmaking at all. 

And what he did create was monstrous. A Muggleborn Registration Committee that had yet to find a single Muggleborn to register, as though they had all vanished overnight. Had they been able to find a single one, Severus knew from Tom himself that they would be imprisoned in Azkaban and their wands snapped for stealing from rightful witches and wizards.

The Ministry had been reworked from the bottom up. Departments deemed useless, such as Magical Games and Sports and Misuse of Magical Artifacts, were destroyed and those that needed an ‘upgrade’ were renamed. This is how the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures because the Department for the Extermination of Magical Creatures.

None of the things Severus had been counting on had come to pass. None of the ideals he once thought Tom believed in were making any kind of appearance.

It was the final nail in the coffin of what had once been love. At least, it was love on Severus’ part; he was no longer sure that Tom felt anything at all.

With a soft exhale, almost a sigh, Severus withdrew his hand and rolled over to get out of bed. Barty’s confession had played heavily on his thoughts the past several weeks. The devotion the other man had shown him was near equal to the devotion Severus himself had once owed Lily Evans. It was overwhelming and intoxicating all at the same time. Terrifying and bewildering, yet the temptation was there.

Severus Snape had been lucky enough to fall in love twice in his thirty-four years. He had no hope of a third time. But it would be so wonderful to just let someone love him for once. It did not help that Barty had been wearing him down little by little. Severus had little energy left to resist.

“Ssseverusss…” came the sibilant hiss from the bed behind him.

Severus stiffened in the act of pulling on his robes and turned to look at Tom.

“Leaving so soon?” Tom asked nonchalantly. But there was a dangerous gleam in his eyes.

“Not if you want me to stay,” Severus said with effort.

“I have need of you. An experiment I have been working on.”

Severus cocked his head to one side. This was the first he had heard of any such thing.

“Lucius attempted to assist me and, well…”

The potions master swallowed and folded his robes closer about him. Lucius had first gone missing and then turned up in the psych ward of St. Mungo’s. 

“He was weak,” Tom finished. “But you are not. I’m confident that you will be able to help me. Come here.” He beckoned with one pale, long hand.

Shivering with nerves, Severus approached, crawling back onto the bed at Tom’s bidding. “What would you have of me?” he finally asked.

Tom gently peeled back the layers of cloth covering Severus’ dark mark before he picked up his wand from the bedside table. “A simple spell,” was his answer. “Duo universus.”

A black nimbus of magic swamped Severus’ form and he screamed as it came for him.

Then all he knew was madness.

-o-0-o-

Draco and Ron were hiding in the Black Academy’s Astronomy globe, as it had been dubbed. The students who had been safely transferred to the school were being shown around and introduced to their dormitories. They hadn’t felt up to playing tour guide.

Ron’s head was lying in Draco’s lap. Draco was slowly carding his fingers through the coppery locks on the other boy’s head. They were both still otherwise, simply enjoying the moment of alone time.

“Have you heard from your mother?” Ron finally asked.

Draco sighed. He had met with his mother on the morning of the Quidditch World Cup. She had readily agreed to help their cause, and said she would send Draco a letter when she had any kind of news.

“Nothing so far,” he admitted. “But it hasn’t been long. I’m not sure how much access she has to Severus or any of the other Death Eaters anyway. Mother is our only option, though.”

Ron reached up one hand and entwined his fingers with Draco’s, gently tugging them free of his hair. “Everything will work out.”

Draco smiled down at his boyfriend. “I know.”

“Oh!”

They both craned their heads to see Hermione’s form paused at the top of the stairs into the globe.

“I-I’ll just…” she made a motion over her shoulder and turned to go before Ron called out and stopped her.

“Wait! Mione, please join us!” The redhead sat up, trading the hand he had joined with Draco’s so that he could reach the other one out to the brunette girl.

She nibbled her bottom lip. “I shouldn’t…”

“We won’t bite,” Draco teased. “Much.”

Her lips twitched, but he had called on her Gryffindor bravery, so she moved closer to them with cautious steps.

As soon as she was close enough, Ron snagged her hand and tugged her down to sit beside Draco.

“That’s better,” he sighed, wriggling to get comfortable again. Their position was such that Hermione and Draco were pressed tightly together along their sides, with Ron lying across both their legs so his head could rest in Hermione’s lap.

“Um…” Hermione said, blushing brilliantly.

“Shush,” Ron said firmly.

Hermione turned even redder, somehow.

Draco smirked down at his boyfriend, impressed despite himself. “Hermione?” he said. As soon as the brunette turned her head to look at him, he leaned in close and stole a kiss. She pulled back with a gasp, touching her lips with trembling fingers.

“Now you’re ours,” Draco said with true satisfaction.

He probably deserved the slap she delivered on the back of his head, but it was worth it when she cuddled into his shoulder a moment later.

-o-0-o-

Barty was waiting in Severus’ favorite potions lab, nervously pacing and licking his lips every few minutes as he tried to figure out how to do this. He had to convince Severus to leave the Dark Lord. It was obvious now that they had picked the wrong side. And his friend’s relationship with Voldemort was becoming ever more abusive. It wasn’t as simple as walking away, though. The Dark Lord had found him just from the mark alone. Leaving meant constantly being on the run until or unless they could find a true safe house to hide.

Not to mention Severus could be incredibly stubborn. Barty couldn’t tell if anything he was saying to the man ever got through that snarky exterior. It was damnably frustrating.

He turned to the door, tired of waiting and wanting to see that the man was all right. But just as he reached for the doorknob, it began to turn. Backing away, he looked up, expecting to see dour Severus Snape darkening the doorway.

Instead he came face to face with Narcissa Malfoy. She appeared unkempt, as she had for quite some time, even before her husband disappeared and ended up in hospital. Their eyes met and neither looked away for several long moments.

Finally Barty remembered his manners, tongue darting out to wet his lips as he made a half-bow to the Malfoy matriarch. “My lady.”

“Mr. Crouch,” she answered haughtily. “Where is Snape?”

Barty gave the room a cursory glance and shrugged. “I haven’t seen him yet today.”

Her lips thinned. Barty could not tell if it was with annoyance or something else. 

“Why do you ask?” he hazarded.

She sniffed, straightening from a posture he now realized had been covert, and finally releasing the doorknob from a white-knuckled grip. “I require a potion, of course.”

“Of course,” Barty said drily. He rubbed his chin, scratching at the stubbly growth there. “I believe he is with the Dark Lord.”

She nodded jerkily, not making eye contact. “I see. Thank you for your assistance and tell him that I would like to speak with him when you see him next.”

“Of course,” Barty said again.

She was gone before he could study her further. That had been…odd.

Sighing, Barty cast Narcissa Malfoy from his mind and stalked out of the room himself. He still needed to find Severus.

But the next person he came across was the Dark Lord himself. The man was practically crackling with manic energy, his red eyes wild and excited as he walked briskly down the hallway.

“Barty!” the Dark Lord called. “With me!”

Barty altered his steps to follow the man obediently. Where Voldemort went, Snape usually followed. 

“May I ask where we are going, my lord?” Barty quietly inquired.

“You may,” Voldemort said, leading the way to the manor foyer and the floo connection there. “We are going to Hogwarts to welcome the students back to school. I have an especial interest in seeing the Potter twins once more.”

“Yes, my lord,” Barty said, bowing slightly as they walked. “And Severus…?”

“It pleases me that you take your duties in protecting him so seriously,” Voldemort said, stopping to address Barty directly. “But for now I want you to follow me.”

They reached the foyer and Barty preceded the Dark Lord, intending to make sure that the way was clear for his master to enter the ancient castle.

When he arrived in the Great Hall, he was shocked to find it empty. Not only was the Great Hall empty, but the entire castle seemed to echo silently as he took a few steps away from the fireplace.

The whoosh of the fireplace behind him filled Barty with trepidation. If the castle was truly empty…the Dark Lord would not be pleased.

Silence reigned between them for several moments as the Dark Lord assessed the room. “Where are they?”

“Perhaps the staff are at the station preparing to greet the students?” Barty said, hoping this was the case.

“Perhaps,” Voldemort said tightly.

Barty cautiously followed the Dark Lord out of the castle and they traveled quickly down the path toward Hogsmeade and the train station. The smoke from the train could be seen in the distance, and they waited as the scarlet engine pulled into the station and each emerald green car lined up behind it.

Something was wrong. Barty wasn’t sure what, but something was very, very wrong.

It took perhaps five minutes before the doors of the cars were thrown open and students began to disembark. Those students were clearly nervous and when they spotted the Dark Lord most of them stopped where they stood and did not come any closer.

One particularly stupid child, in Barty’s mind at least, stepped right up to the Dark Lord and started babbling about the Potters and their friends using some kind of potion on everyone on the train. Those who were exiting the train had woken up halfway to Scotland and discovered all of the other students missing.

Barty quickly backed away when the child got to that part of the story. The rage from the Dark Lord was rolling off of the man in palpable waves of fury. Small crackling black lightning bolts were jumping from Voldemort’s wand.

The child, finally realizing the danger, tried to back away.

“Reducto!” Voldemort snarled, striking the boy in the chest with a super-powered explosion hex. The poor child didn’t stand a chance, and Barty looked away quickly to be sick as the remains of the child’s head and torso splattered across the platform.

It was pandemonium. The children tried to run, and Voldemort doggedly pursued every one, striking them down with whatever spell struck his fancy in that moment. The stone of the platform was painted red within moments. The shiny emerald paint of the nearest car became coated with a sheen of wet blood, turning the color to a muddy brown. Still Voldemort continued cutting them down. Barty continued to look away, unable to bring himself to witness such genocide. He was just thankful that there did not appear to be a child below the age of thirteen there that day.

Those that he had recognized as they initially emerged were either marked death eaters or children of such. Barty wasn’t sure what the Dark Lord intended to tell his followers about the deaths of their children. He wasn’t sure the Dark Lord had thought that far ahead, if at all.

The unnaturally loud roar of fire made him look back just once. He saw a great fiendfyre dragon eating through the train, devouring those children who had taken refuge there. Barty was thankful that the screams were short-lived.

Finally it was over. A few bodies were moving sluggishly, the poor souls that occupied them not quite dead. Barty had to be sick again when he finally looked at the carnage. There was not much there that resembled a human being. The fact that the recognizable bits were too small to belong to an adult…

He dry-heaved for several minutes into the blood-stained grass beside the platform. Thank Merlin Severus hadn’t been subjected to such a sight. 

Barty looked for the Dark Lord at last, and stared at what he was seeing. The man was doubled over, clutching his chest as though in pain.

“No,” Voldemort muttered. “No, he was perfect. It should have worked.” The Dark Lord’s magic rippled over his form for several moments before it nimbused into an orb of malevolent black that obliterated his form entirely.

When it cleared and Barty could finally make out what had happened, his heart lurched into his throat at the sight of Severus Snape lying sprawled on the ground in the blood and guts and bones that remained from the children. How had he come to be there? How?

With a scream of rage, Voldemort slashed his wand at Severus, opening a large gash from shoulder to waist across his body. Then with a thundering pop, the Dark Lord disapparated from the scene.

Barty flew to Severus and set about healing the gash with his wand. He sang the edges back together, willing the man to heal and be well, heal and be well. Belatedly, he realized he was sobbing as his own tears mixed with the blood on Severus’ chest and that of the children massacred around them. The wound closed, though the work was clumsy at best. Leaning over, Barty touched Severus’ face and looked down at the wildly staring eyes.

“Severus? Severus!”

There was no response, just rapidly shifting pupils in eyes blown wide by fear or pain or something Barty knew not.

They couldn’t stay there. This might be his only chance to get Severus away. Barty pulled Severus up part way and slung the other man’s arm over his shoulders. He managed to stand with the dead weight at his side, and spun on one foot as he sought the only destination he could think of that might be safe.

-o-0-o-

Black Academy was settling down for the evening Welcoming Feast when a surprise edition of the Evening Prophet made its way into the hands of Headmistress McGonagall. Her uncharacteristic barely muffled scream and the immediate tears on her face caused total silence to fall in the Great Hall.

Sirius gently took the paper from her and though his face was shocked, he stood to address the room and explain the situation. “It’s…the Evening Prophet. They report that the Hogwarts Express arrived at Hogsmeade Station with only about fifteen to twenty students on board. They are unsure of the exact amount because…because…”

The other professors, who had gathered closer to read over his shoulder, gasped and started to cry as they got to the part of the article Sirius was having trouble vocalizing.

“The Dark Lord was waiting at the station, and when he realized that most of the students were missing, he…attacked,” Sirius finally finished. “Most of the bodies are too damaged to identify.”

There were gasps and screams from the students at the tables below. Those perhaps the most affected by this were the Potter twins, Ronald Weasley, Draco Malfoy, and Hermione Granger. The Muggleborn witch had promptly vomited into her plate upon realizing the implications. After all, they were the ones responsible for those few students still being on the train. They should have taken everyone. They were just children. They might have been able to help them.

Harry and Henry were openly crying, clutching one another’s hands desperately.

At the head table, Professor Sprout had taken McGonagall’s hand and was gently escorting her from the room.

“I think it best if everyone adjourns for the evening,” Remus told the assembled students. “I’m sure the Headmistress will address this matter in the morning. And don’t worry about classes, either.”

Most of those present departed from the tables in silent agreement. Only the group including the Potters and their friends remained. 

“What have we done?” Hermione sobbed.

Henry took her hands gently in his own. “I know how you feel, Hermione. I was the same way after Colin died. But we had no way of knowing what the Dark Lord would do when that train came in. We assumed, naively, that since they were his followers he would not harm them. We are not responsible for the Dark Lord’s actions.”

“But we might have been able to help them!” Hermione wailed. “If we’d just been willing to take the chance!”

He bowed his head, unable to argue with her. 

“But it wasn’t a chance we could afford,” Harry said, trying to console her as well.

Ron and Draco both wrapped their arms around her and shook their heads at the twins.

“We’ll take care of her,” Ron promised.

Reluctantly, the twins nodded. They stood and left the remaining trio sitting at the Gryffindor table to return to their dormitory.

“Promise me we’ll make him pay,” Harry said softly once they were out of the Great Hall.

Henry nodded almost imperceptibly.

“Good.”

-o-0-o-

Severus was trapped. Before his eyes he kept seeing the carnage at Hogsmeade station replay over and over again. No escape. Nothing but the Dark Lord’s mad thoughts to accompany the terror and helplessness he felt. Nothing but pain and blood and death.

He couldn’t believe that he thought recombining Tom’s soul would make him whole again. It was obvious to him now, as an inside observer, that there had never been anything to make whole in the first place. Tom’s mind was all manipulation and power and magic. No emotions, nothing but angry, violent thoughts and aspirations. No desire for anything other than ruling others and preventing his own death.

He was mad.

Something pierced the madness, then. Severus tried to grasp it, desperate for something else to grab onto in this void. A voice trickled through to him, and he heard his name.

“Severus.”

He knew the voice, could not place it. All that mattered was that it was not the Dark Lord. It was not Voldemort. It was not Tom.

He reached for that voice with both hands, uncaring of the pain as he mentally clawed at the cage built around him. He reached and reached, and just when he thought he would have to give it up as a lost cause, the voice reached back.

“Severus, wake up.”

He obeyed.

-o-0-o-

Narcissa Malfoy shivered with fear as she tiptoed through one of the many hidden passages in the Manor. Not even the Dark Lord knew of them. After hearing what had transpired at Hogsmeade, she had decided it was time to disappear. Since she was not marked, and Draco needed her right where she was, hiding in her own home had seemed the only logical choice.

Those Death Eaters who had children amongst those at the station had appeared to the Dark Lord en masse, demanding to know why their son or their daughter had been slaughtered like so much cattle. Voldemort had been caught in a moment of weakness, his magic apparently too weak from murdering children to punish his followers and bring them back into line. They had defected, every one of them. Narcissa had heard the Dark Lord screaming bloody murder from across the Manor.

She had no illusions about those defectors. They would be hunted down and either cowed or killed. It hardly mattered.

What mattered was that she had not seen Severus Snape since the day before. And it was absolutely imperative for everyone involved that she find him. 

Moving a little further down the passage, she came to the spyhole that would allow her to see into the Dark Lord’s private chambers. Sliding the plate aside as slowly and quietly as humanly possible, she pressed one eye to the hole that was revealed.

There was Voldemort, lying exhausted across the bed in the middle of the room. What surprised Narcissa was the sight of her sister Bellatrix present in the room as well.

“It’s all right, my lord,” Bellatrix was babbling inanely, her childish voice soft and gentle as she stroked Voldemort’s dark hair. “I’ll take care of you.”

“You were always my most faithful,” Voldemort murmured. “Not even Severus…” he trailed off and Narcissa nearly screamed with frustration.

“And where is he now?” Bellatrix asked, scorn clear in her voice. “He was never worthy of you, my lord.”

“Severus will return,” Voldemort said dismissively. “Though if he ended up like Lucius he may well be useless to me now.”

Narcissa’s ears perked up. Had the Dark Lord done to Severus what had been done to her husband? None of the Healers had been sure what plagued Lucius, but perhaps this was a clue.

“What did you do to them?” Bellatrix asked with evident delight. “Was it deliciously painful?”

“An experiment. Symbiotic spells. Perhaps I will try with you next.”

“I would be honored, my lord!” Bellatrix exclaimed.

Voldemort finally moved, rolling over slightly to stare at the eldest Black sister. He reached up one pale hand and grabbed Bellatrix by the hair in a painful grip. “Will it work with you? It is faith that I lack in those I choose? Or is it merely power?”

“No one is more faithful than I,” Bellatrix declared. “Nor stronger in magic. I would die for you, my lord.”

“Duo universus,” Voldemort snarled, brandishing his wand at Bellatrix. A black nimbus of his magic formed and snapped together a moment later. When it cleared, Bellatrix was gone and the Dark Lord was laughing maniacally at the empty room.

Shuddering, Narcissa closed the spyhole and dashed back down the passageway, almost not caring how much noise she made as she tried to get away from the madman occupying her home. Draco needed to know all of this. Perhaps it was not Snape himself, but it had to be news they did not have all the same.

-o-0-o-


	37. Resonance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one more chapter and the epilogue after this one!

An emergency meeting of the Potter Brigade was called when Draco received the letter from his mother.  The news that Voldemort was experimenting with symbiotic spells caused quite the argument amongst the members of their group.  Only Harry and Henry seemed immune to the news, and when things got particularly heated in the meeting room, they intervened.

 

“Don’t you understand?” Harry finally yelled over the sound of the others shouting.  They quieted, everyone turning to look at him.  “This is ‘the power the Dark Lord knows not’.” 

 

“Voldemort is trying to get the spells to work, but he’s been completely unsuccessful at doing so.  First Lucius, then Severus, now Bellatrix.  None of them are compatible, and he’s only getting as far as he is because of the dark mark,” Henry said.

 

“More importantly,” Harry continued, “Snape has gone missing.  We need to focus on finding him before Voldemort or any of the Death Eaters do.”

 

Everyone nodded and slowly returned to their seats.

 

“Does anyone have an idea of how to find him?” Henry asked.

 

“We don’t have enough information on where he went missing to begin with,” Hermione said with frustration.  “Presumably, he was at the Hogsmeade Massacre, and that was where the Dark Lord lost control of the spell and left him to recover on his own.  But if he was in any kind of condition similar to Mr. Malfoy, he wouldn’t have been able to get far on his own.”

 

“Mum said that Barty Crouch Jr. had been set to protect Severus during the Battle for Hogwarts, and continued to do so during the summer.  Crouch has been missing since the Massacre as well.”  Draco leaned over the table to make his point.  “So, assuming Snape was incapacitated and Crouch wanted to protect him more than obey the Dark Lord, they are probably together.”

 

“Or Crouch took the opportunity to kill him,” Sirius said cynically.  “Still, it seems our best bet.”

 

“So we need to figure out where Crouch might take them that they would be safe.  Doesn’t his father work in the ministry?” Remus asked Amelia.

 

She nodded slowly, adjusting her monocle.  “He was once higher up in the Minister’s office, and well on his way to becoming Minister himself.  When his son was revealed as a Death Eater during the trials, though, he was demoted down to one of the minor offices.  But now that Voldemort has taken over, I sincerely doubt he’s entered the Ministry of his own volition since.  He’s probably hiding at home or in another safe place.”

 

“What’s the likelihood of Crouch going home?” Horace asked.

 

No one was quite sure of an answer to that.  “He was supposed to be dead,” Amelia shared.  “He was sent to Azkaban by his own father.  His mother died of heartbreak shortly thereafter.  Crouch was apparently sickly as a child and he only lasted a few months in the prison before passing himself.  Except apparently not, since he’s turned up now.”

 

Harry tried to wrap his mind around it.  “Mother and son died at around the same time, then?  It’s too bad we can’t see the logs of who visited Azkaban around the time Crouch was supposed to have died.  I’ll bet anything his parents paid him a visit shortly before he died.”

 

“You think he and his mother switched places?” Amelia gasped.

 

“It would make sense,” Harry said.  “But it’s pure speculation.  That would mean Barty has been living with his father all these years, until the Dark Lord returned and he went back to his master.”

 

“Then his home is the best place to look,” Ron finished.

 

Now that they had a plan formed, however unlikely, they adjourned until more information could be gathered.  The adult members of the group formed a rotation that would watch the Crouch residence in the hopes of catching either the elder or junior Crouch entering or leaving.

 

-o-0-o-

 

Severus did not come back to himself all at once.  When he did have cognizant moments, he had no idea where he was or what was going on around him.  Time passed in a muddled cloud that had no beginning or end.  All was floating nothingness occasionally punctuated by pain or thirst or hunger.  Those were the moments when he felt himself, and he wished them away like everything else.  The floating was much more peaceful.  He didn’t want to remember who he was.  He didn’t want to remember why he was hiding in the first place.

 

But there was one constant that tempted him to return to the present.  A singing in his skin and in his magic that threatened to overwhelm his very soul with every second it remained near to him.  It felt so wonderful he could have wept, except he was trying his very best not to feel anything at all.

 

Eventually that singing—that resonance—won out.  He awoke after he knew not how long and took stock of the situation with his typical mental acumen.

 

He was lying in a bed.  The ceiling above was that of a cottage.  Bright white stucco pierced with the dark wood of oaken beams.  Turning his head, he found the source of everything he had been both fighting and yearning for during his unconscious moments.

 

Barty slept there, sitting upright in a chair beside the bed.  Or, mostly upright.  He was hunched over in a very uncomfortable looking position, all so that his hand could rest on the bed entwined with Severus’ own.  Where their skin met, his magic lay coiled and placid.  It was exactly like a purring cat, he decided.  With every breath in and out, his magic was purring happily to be so near to Barty; to see their hands joined at long last.

 

Severus didn’t try very hard to remember.  He had been running from this for so long, and he didn’t particularly care why anymore.  It didn’t matter.  There was a resonance, and that was enough.

 

“Barty,” he tried to whisper.  It came out as a half-choked croak.  He noticed for the first time that he was parched.

 

The noise was enough to wake the man in the chair, who came alert with a start, then stared down at Severus lying awake in the bed.  “Sev…”

 

Severus gulped with difficulty.  That was what Lily had always called him.  “Water?” he tried.

 

Barty jumped to at once, but unfortunately took his hand from Severus’ in the process.  Severus made a pitiful sound at the loss of contact.  Without the contented feeling of his magic, it was now readily apparent that he was very sore and very tired.

 

“Here, drink,” Barty said, returning with a goblet of water in one hand.  He helped to raise Severus’ head up, which helped more than he probably realized as all of Severus’ aches and pains were chased away once more.

 

After gulping down the water, Severus tried to speak once more.  “Do you feel that?”

 

“Of course,” Barty said, setting aside the goblet.  “Though I’m glad to know it’s not just me.”

 

Sighing, Severus rested back against the pillows again.  “What does it mean?”

 

“I’ve been trying to find out,” Barty answered.  He kept his hand beneath Severus’ head and reached out the other to gently touch the other man’s face.  “I suspect it’s much more than we can begin to imagine.”

 

“Hmm…” Severus mused.  He felt so delightfully comfortable.  Before he realized it, he was slipping into unconsciousness again.  But this time instead of escape, it was true rest.

 

“My heart and my soul,” Barty whispered.  He leaned down and gently brushed his lips over Severus’.  Their magic sang at the contact.

 

“So he’s awake, now?”

 

Barty didn’t turn at the voice.  “Yes, Father.  When he’s well we will leave you in peace, as I promised.”

 

Barty Crouch Sr. made a disparaging noise but left the room as silently as he had come.  He would need to send Winky to procure some more supplies now that the injured Potions Master was finally awake.  He retreated to his study and wrote up a quick list of the essentials.

 

“Winky!”

 

With a pop, the tiny house elf appeared in the room and presented a neat curtsy.  “Master called, sir?”

 

Rolling his eyes at her redundancy, he presented her with the list.  “Go and purchase these things.  Try not to be seen.”

 

“Yes, Master sir,” she said, curtsying again.  “Winky wants to warn Master Crouch sir that there are wizards outside watching the house.”

 

“What?” he barked.  Striding to the closest window, he threw back the curtain and peered outside into the street.  Standing on the opposite corner was a gentleman in a trench coat, nonchalantly smoking a cigarette.  “How long has he been there?”

 

“More than an hour, Master sir.  And he keeps looking at the house.  Before him there was a woman sitting on the bench and trying to knits, sir.”

 

Even as Crouch watched, he saw the man surreptitiously glance at the house and away again.  Peering a little more closely, he could see a small pile of cigarette butts on the pavement at his feet.

 

Closing the curtain with a snarl, he waved Winky away and stalked back to Barty’s room where the two Death Eaters were ensconced.

 

“Someone is watching the house,” he said without ceremony.  He was polite enough to keep his voice down for the injured man, but made sure the urgency he felt was adequately expressed.

 

Barty turned to look at him with concern.  “Already?  Is it a Death Eater?”

 

“I would hardly know,” Crouch said with a grimace.

 

Reluctantly, Barty pulled himself away from the sleeping man, who promptly grimaced and muttered in his sleep.  Barty followed his father back into the study and peered around the edge of the curtain to see the man across the street.  He grunted at what he saw, then nervously licked his lips.  “Not a Death Eater.  So that’s good news.”

 

“If it’s not the Dark Lord, then who?” Crouch asked.

 

Barty shrugged.  “Dunno.  I could speculate, but there wouldn’t be much point.”

 

“Then what are you going to do about it?”

 

“Same thing I promised to do.  Get Severus better and get out of here.  Only now instead of doing it quietly, we’ll let them see us leaving so they hopefully don’t bother you anymore.”

 

Crouch grimaced.  “I would rather see you safe.”

 

Barty flushed slightly and looked away.  “And I you, Father.”  He returned to his room and Crouch tried to get some work done.  He couldn’t help occasionally looking out the curtains, though.  He saw two more people take the man’s place.  They weren’t doing a very good job of being surreptitious.  They all picked the same corner to perch on.  One of them almost looked familiar, but he couldn’t quite place her.

 

As soon as Winky returned with the supplies he sent her out again to begin converting one of the other Crouch properties into a safe house.  They would all go into hiding.  He would keep his son safe, as he had promised his late wife.

 

-o-0-o-

 

Voldemort sat on his throne in the Malfoy ballroom and struggled to contain his magic within his skin.  It was a lost cause.  No matter what he did, there was a constant crackling of energy around him.  Bellatrix had lasted the longest under the symbiotic spell thus far, but it seemed even her devotion was not enough.  What was he missing!  There must be something…

 

As he turned his thoughts to that problem, he lost control of his magic at last.  The black cloud snapped faster than ever this time, and he came back to himself slumped over the arm of the throne with Bellatrix lying prone at his feet.

 

It was as he stared down at his most faithful follower that he realized the problem.  It was as Severus said.  Separating his soul into so many pieces had weakened him.  But it was not his mind, but his magic!

 

He straightened slowly, and nudged Bellatrix with one bare foot.

 

She moaned and came to slowly, sitting up with a confused air.  This was an improvement over Lucius’ madness, at least.

 

“Master?”

 

“I have a task for you, Bellatrix,” Voldemort murmured.

 

“Anything, master!” she said fervently, her senses coming back fast now.

 

“There is an object I once entrusted to you.  A golden cup.  Fetch it now and bring it to me.”

 

She struggled to her feet and left to do his bidding at once.

 

Voldemort remained in the throne, too exhausted to do more for now.  He would reabsorb the piece from the cup and then try this experiment again.  The locket and the ring were still safe, he was sure.  No one would ever know where to find them, especially with Dumbledore dead.  If the cup was not enough, then perhaps he would go for those as well.

 

He would have rather collected Henry Potter and attempted to retrieve the piece from the brat.  It was the least secure.  A human container was so fragile—eventually he would have to take that piece anyway, lest the boy destroy a part of his soul with something as ridiculous as old age.  Unfortunately, both of the Potter twins were missing along with the rest of the Hogwarts students.  It was a problem for another time.

 

For now, the cup would do.

 

-o-0-o-

 

Narcissa watched through her spyholes at every hour of the day and night.  She had set some of the house elves to watching particularly important ones—those in the Dark Lord’s quarters and some of the other Death Eaters.  Unfortunately, there was not a good spyhole for the ballroom.  That was problematic as much of his business was conducted there.  She had to make do with a small curtained balcony that opened directly over the Dark Lord’s throne.  Standing on the other side of the curtain, a person could hear most of went on down below.  But the position was exposed.  She ran the risk of being seen.

 

She had seen Bellatrix again after several days where the witch had presumably been joined with Voldemort through the _duo universus_ spell.  Her sister hadn’t seemed any the worse for wear, and had left the Manor in a great hurry.  Narcissa was waiting beside the curtained balcony to see what would happen when her sister returned.  She had had to hide from several Death Eaters already, holding her breath and shunting extra power into her disillusionment spell.  She had never been meant to be a spy.

 

Lucky enough for her, Bellatrix was quick about whatever task Voldemort had set her.

 

“Master, I have the cup!” Bella exclaimed in her childish tones.

 

“Bring it to me,” Voldemort ordered.

 

Narcissa listened intently, trying to gain some clue as to what was happening in the next room.  There was a clink as something metal was set down, probably on the arm of the throne. 

 

“Leave me,” Voldemort said then.

 

She could hear Bella’s scuttling footsteps leaving the room, then silence.

 

Narcissa was about to throw caution to the wind and peer around the curtain to try and see what the Dark Lord was doing, but then she became conscious of a growing pulse of strong magic.  _What was he doing!?_ She couldn’t deny the impulse to see what was happening.  Slowly, cautiously she slipped past the edge of the curtain, barely brushing it, and looked over the very furthest edge of the balcony.

 

Below, Voldemort had cut open the palms of both hand and filled a small golden chalice with his blood.  Cupping the object in both hands, he raised it up and chanted some kind of spell she didn’t recognize.  It didn’t sound like Latin or Greek.

 

The maelstrom of magic that had been building coalesced into a pitch black dome around the Dark Lord as she watched.  It swirled faster and faster, kicking up a wind that forced Narcissa to shield her eyes.  The curtains behind her whipped back and forth from the sheer power of that wind.

 

The dome of black energy suddenly stopped and hardened into a smooth shield, then sucked inward with a thunderous boom of displaced air.  Covering her ears, Narcissa continue to watch.  She saw the Dark Lord as the magic dissipated.  He looked older now, and the cup was a molten puddle of gold on the ballroom floor.

 

Voldemort shifted his shoulders as though stretching long unused muscles, then moved to stalk from the room.  Before he had even moved, Narcissa had slithered back through the curtain and into a nearby hidden passageway.  Whatever had happened, she hoped Draco would find some use in the information.

 

-o-0-o-

 

“That’s it then,” Harry said softly when they heard the news.  “All that’s left is the piece in Henry.”

 

The others were quiet in response.  No one knew what to say.

 

“Please excuse us,” Harry finally said.  He took Hen by the hand and led him from the meeting room and to one of the spare rooms on the third floor of the Academy.  Henry was ominously silent all the way up to the room.

 

It was as the door clicked shut that he broke.  The barrier between their minds, tenuous as it always was now, shuddered and fell.  Harry was inundated with Henry’s despair, his fear, and his heartache.

 

“It’s not fair,” Henry said. 

 

Harry pulled his brother close, pillowing Henry’s head on his own shoulder and rubbing gentle circles on his back.  Henry just sobbed, muffled words occasionally breaking through the tears as he just let it all out.

 

“It’s all right,” Harry murmured, sending soothing strength and love across their bond.  “It’s all right.  I have a plan.”

 

Henry quieted on hearing this, and struggled to bite back his tears so he could listen.  When he judged that Henry had calmed enough, Harry continued.  “There will be a last battle.  We’ll have Snape on our side by then.  I think he and Barty might have the ability to do symbiotic spells as well as we can.  You and I will become Lylas, and they’ll become whoever they are.  And we’ll ask them to use _pax pacis caedo_ on us.”

 

Henry’s arms tightened around Harry to the point of pain.  “Together?”

 

“Always,” Harry whispered.  “I would never leave you, even if I could.”

 

They held each other closely and the promise echoed between them like a litany of broken dreams.

 

-o-0-o-

 

“Master sir, there is another person watching the house now,” Winky told Crouch Sr. more than a week after the watchers had started.

 

“What do you mean, another?” he demanded, moving once again to the study window.

 

“Winky means now there are two.  The ones who have been watching, and another.”

 

Crouch peered through a gap in the curtains to see what she meant.  The regular watcher—a woman sitting on the bench and failing at knitting—was there as always.  It took him a few moments to locate the new watcher.  He was much more successful at hiding while observing the Crouch house, hidden behind a bin between two town houses across the way.  He also looked much more like Death Eater material.

 

Cursing, Crouch went to find his son.

 

Barty was coaxing Severus through several tentative footsteps in the back bedroom.  The man was making a slow recovery from whatever had befallen him.  He was still incredibly weak even now that they were well into October.

 

“There’s another one, now,” Crouch announced as soon as he cleared the doorway.

 

Barty and Severus both turned to look at him with concern.  “Another one?” Severus rasped.

 

“It will be the Dark Lord this time,” Barty sighed.  “We need to get out of here.”

 

Crouch revealed the task he had set Winky to a month before.  “I’ve been preparing a safe house for us.  We can go there now if Severus is strong enough to travel.”

 

Barty shook his head.  “You should go, Father, but no safe house will keep the Dark Lord from us.”  He raised his left arm pointedly, and Crouch swallowed heavily.  He should have realized.

 

“Then where will you go?”

 

Barty motioned to Severus, who had by now moved to sit heavily in the unoccupied chair beside the bed.  “Severus says the first set of watchers are probably friends.  Dumbledore’s Order of the Phoenix.”

 

Crouch inhaled sharply and nodded.  “It’s possible, I suppose.  But what if they’re not?”

 

Barty, still holding Severus’ hand, rubbed it lightly and didn’t meet his father’s eyes.  “If they’re not, and the other watcher is the Death Eaters, they’re still the lesser of two evils.  I think we’ll have to take our chances.”

 

Crouch grimaced and turned to leave.  “I’ll depart tonight.  When will you…?”

 

“As soon as Severus can do more than take a few trembling steps,” Barty said softly.

 

“Stay well, son,” Crouch murmured.  He left before he could hear Barty’s response.

 

Hours later, the only occupants of the Crouch home were Barty and Severus. 

 

“When are we really leaving?” Severus asked, watching Barty pack their meager belongings into a bottomless satchel.

 

“Now,” Barty answered.  He finished his packing and turned to regard the other man with a worried frown.  “You should be better by now.  I’m no Healer.  With any luck, the Order, or whoever they are, will be able to help you.”

 

“ _You_ are helping me,” Severus whispered, holding out one hand.  Barty took it readily and shuddered as their magic began to whisper and hum between them.  “You know what this is?” Severus asked him.

 

Neither of them had spoken the words, despite the bond that had been steadily growing between them over every passing day.  Their very minds were becoming connected, though it was slowed considerably by Severus’ Occlumency.

 

Barty gulped, but didn’t answer.

 

Severus sighed, pulling his hand away.  “Let’s go.”

 

They made their way with painful slowness to the front door.  Barty checked for their watchers outside and spotted the Death Eater in the alley as well as the woman knitting on the bench.

 

“Here goes nothing,” he mumbled.  They opened the door, immediately attracting the attention of both watchers.  Barty already had his wand ready and shot several nasty curses at the Death Eater.  The woman on the bench threw aside her rather abysmal attempt at knitting and raised her own wand.

 

Barty and Severus were both thankful that she aimed it at the Death Eater and not at them.

 

The Death Eater had blocked Barty’s curses and managed to press his wand to the mark on his arm before they could incapacitate him.  It was mere moments before numerous pops were heard in the near vicinity.  The woman had fired off a patronus that darted off to deliver a message to her own people.  Barty and Severus stumbled their way toward the bench, hoping that they would be able to get away before the Death Eaters closed in.

 

It was as they approached closer to the woman that they realized who she was. 

 

“Amelia Bones,” Severus gasped, falling more than sitting on the bench as the other two raised their wands to ward off a few early comers.  “Can you help us?”

 

“That depends, Snape,” Amelia growled.  “What’s in it for us?”

 

“Whatever made you watch that house for the past month and a half,” he growled.  “I don’t know what you want, but you will have it.  Please!”

 

She was distracted for a moment, staring at the one man she had never thought to hear that word from.  Then she was pressing a small polished stone into his hand and murmuring the password to activate the portkey, “Black Academy”.

 

With Severus gone, she grabbed Barty and repeated the process with him before apparating away.

 

-o-0-o-


	38. The Last Chapter

Severus and Barty found themselves in a bright white room lined with neatly made-up beds.  It had the familiar antiseptic smell of a hospital.  As the last vestiges of the portkey faded away, the familiar form of Poppy Pomfrey approached them out of an office in the middle of the ward and briskly motioned them to two of the beds.

 

“Don’t just stand there,” she said sharply.  “Into bed, both of you.”

 

Years of being treated by the brisk woman as students meant obedience was absolute.  Severus sat back on one of the beds with some difficulty, and Barty reclined on the one opposite with a bit more ease.

 

Poppy ran her diagnostics on Severus first, as he was the more obviously injured.  She tisked at whatever she saw in her readouts and summoned half a dozen potions vials from the stores in her office.

 

Severus sniffed each bottle before drinking and said, begrudgingly, “Almost as good as mine.”

 

“You have Ms. Granger to thank for that,” Poppy said primly.  “Lie down before those kick in.  I’ve no mind for manhandling you into place after you’ve been knocked out.”

 

He complied, and was soon fast asleep.

 

She turned to Barty, then, and cast the same diagnostics on him.  “Well, there’s nothing wrong with you.  Off with you.”

 

“With all due respect,” Barty said, hopping off the bed.  “I think I’ll stay and help Severus get better.”  He waved his wand over Severus’ bed, expanding it to a size that would comfortably fit two adults.  Another short wave and both of their clothes were transformed into pajamas.

 

Poppy sniffed, but didn’t stop him from climbing in beside the dark-haired man.  “He ought to wake in about six hours,” she offered.  “There are a number of people who would like to speak to you then.  In the meantime, rest.  I will make sure you’re not disturbed.”

 

Barty curled up against Severus’ side and resolved to get some sleep.

 

-o-0-o-

 

Six hours passed in a flash, it seemed.  Before too long, Severus was stirring and Barty was awakened from his light slumber.  Leaning up on one elbow, he gently brushed several strands of hair out of Severus’ face as the man awakened.

 

“How do you feel?” Barty asked quietly.

 

“Better,” Severus answered.  He had shifted in his sleep so that they were lying on their sides facing one another.  One hand reached up and captured the hand Barty had left resting on his cheek, bringing it to his lips.  “Much better.”

 

Barty sighed half with relief and half with emotion.  It was the first acknowledgement Severus had made of their new relationship.  “I still love you,” he whispered.

 

“And I am coming to understand that I love you as well,” Severus breathed.  “After all…we seem to be soul bound.”

 

Barty’s breath left him in a rush and he leaned forward to press his lips against Severus’.  It was warm and bright and perfect for a long moment, and then someone else in the room rudely cleared their throat to interrupt them.

 

Turning to look over his shoulder, Barty saw a small gathering of people who appeared to be waiting for them.  Among them were the Potter twins, Sirius Black, Amelia Bones, and his old Potions teacher, Horace Slughorn.  There was another man he knew only because of his werewolf affliction, Remus Lupin.  Several other children around the same age as the Potters were present as well, one of which was clearly Lucius Malfoy’s son.

 

“Hi,” Barty said, nonplussed.  This garnered a few chuckles from those present.

 

“If you’re feeling up to it, we’d like to have a bit of an informal meeting with you, Professor.”  This from a bushy-haired brunette who was clearly addressing Severus.

 

“I think I will manage,” Severus said drily.

 

They sat up in the bed, using the pillows as a backrest as the rest of the group pulled up chairs to sit in a half-circle around the bed.

 

“I hope you’re here to tell us why you were watching the house, and why you rescued us,” Severus said, leaning heavily against the head of the bed as he studied his former colleagues and students in the room.

 

“Amongst other things,” said one of the twins.  This one was wearing Gryffindor colors, so it must be Harry Potter.  “We need to tell you the prophecy, Professor.  I think that will answer most of your questions.”

 

Severus’ brow furrowed.  “I thought it was broken.  That was why the Dark Lord marked you.”

 

“That one was, but it seems it was just rewritten so another could take the job from us,” Henry Potter said.

 

The twins exchanged a glance before speaking in unison, “ _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches, born to those who have thrice denied him, born as the new year dies.  And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal and he will have power the Dark Lord knows not.  And either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives.  The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the new year dies._ ”

 

Severus stared at them all for a long moment.  “You think this means me?”

 

They all nodded.

 

Barty licked his lips before speaking, “But…why?”

 

“Professor Snape’s birthday is 9 January, which is close to the New Year.  And we’re presuming that his family denied the Dark Lord three times.  He was also marked as an equal to Voldemort when the crown was added to his dark mark,” said Harry.

 

Severus reached over to subconsciously rub the mark on his left forearm.  Barty took his hand in his own and rubbed soothing circles on the back.

 

“My family…” Severus murmured.  “The Dark Lord had no interest in them that I ever knew of.  My father was a Muggle, and my mother a disowned Pureblood witch.”

 

The assembled group traded frowns. 

 

“There’s also the ‘power the Dark Lord knows not’,” Henry said insistently.  “We think it’s the symbiotic spells.  You saw firsthand that he can’t cast them, Professor.  And Harry and I can cast all of them, together.”

 

Severus glanced at Barty, a strange look on his face.  “The soul bond…”

 

Barty’s eyes widened.  They would presumably have a good chance of casting them since they were soul-bound.

 

“Professor?” Harry asked cautiously.  “Are you and Barty soul bonded?”

 

They both nodded shyly.

 

“But how?” Harry asked.

 

“It is not something done lightly, for many reasons,” Severus spoke.  “It is not just for one lifetime, but for all lifetimes.  It would seem Barty and I made a commitment to one another in a previous life, and now that we have found one another again in this one, the bond has been awakening with a vengeance.”

 

Harry and Henry looked at one another in surprise.  They had never heard that before.

 

“Regardless of the prophecy, I will kill the Dark Lord,” Severus said firmly.  A bit of fire returned to his demeanor, and Barty shivered to see him full of life once more.  “After being forced to witness that massacre at Hogsmeade…” he swallowed heavily.

 

“We can teach you the spells,” Harry offered.  “Me and Henry, and Sirius and Remus.  When you’re ready, we can call out the Dark Lord on our own terms.”

 

“I will need more rest before I can attempt any kind of magic,” Severus admitted self-deprecatingly.  “Being forced to join with the Dark Lord took more out of me that I had thought.  Even with Barty and Poppy’s care, I am still a shadow of what I once was.  And Barty and I will need time to strengthen our bond before we can attempt the first spell.”

 

“Of course.  Please get well, Professor,” Henry said.

 

With the impromptu meeting over, they all stood and returned their chairs, leaving Severus and Barty in peace.  Poppy reappeared at that point, another collection of potions on a tray in her hands.

 

“A bit more rest, then we’ll relocate you to your own rooms in the Academy,” she said gently.

 

“Where are we?” Barty finally asked the question that had been niggling at him. 

 

“This is Black Academy, a temporary school to replace Hogwarts until the war is over.  The children will be kept safe here, where they can learn, and where Voldemort cannot use them against their parents.”

 

Severus drank the potions just as readily as the last time, and settled down to sleep again.

 

Poppy presented Barty with a potion of his own as he scooted down under the covers beside Severus again.  “A sleeping draught,” she told him with a smile.  “This time when you wake, I promise a meal and your own bed.”

 

He drank, and sank into oblivion.

 

-o-0-o-

 

October bled into November.  November turned to December.  By the time Severus’ magic had recovered enough to attempt magic as draining as the symbiotic spells, it was nearly Christmas.  The time lost was not wasted, however.  He and Barty deepened their bond to the point that they could talk mind to mind from across the Academy.  All of the members of the Potter Brigade trained daily, learning offensive and defensive spells and how to work together as a team.  Severus also spent a great deal of time training Hermione and Draco in Potions.  Under his tutelage, they both went far along the path to Mastery.

 

Harry and Henry trained hard under Sirius and Remus, both as a separate team and as Lylas.  By Christmas their bond was just as strong as that between Severus and Barty.  Hermione, Draco, and Ron had also worked out the kinks in their own odd relationship and became a formidable team on the battlefield. 

 

Ron became the source of many of their plans for the upcoming battle.  He had a keen mind for strategy and created a plan for every contingency. 

 

Draco had secreted his mother and father into the Academy, and with his wife nearby Lucius finally began to recover some of himself.  It helped that Severus had experience in what Lucius was facing in his own mind.  He had only escaped madness due to his Occlumency shields.

 

Everyone agreed to take a break over Christmas, and that the first attempt at the spells would be on New Year’s Day.

 

The fact that Severus’ magic was recovered enough just at the New Year had not escaped anyone’s notice.  Severus himself had suggested a new interpretation of the prophecy.

 

“When Barty and I are successful for the first time, we will essentially be a new person.  If we do this on the New Year, at the stroke of midnight, we will be ‘born’ as the New Year dies.  The ones who have thrice denied the Dark Lord are you.  Once as children, a second time when he offered to let you join him, and a third when he marked you and you refused to serve him.”

 

There was some concern over whether Severus and Barty would need a new wand, as the twins had done when combined into Lylas.  In the end, they decided not to worry until the event came to pass.  Diagon Alley was not a safe place by any means, but they ought to be able to sneak in one unknown man to get a wand from Ollivander.

 

Finally the night arrived.  Barty and Severus stood alone in a darkened classroom, with only Harry and Henry as their witnesses.  Midnight approached, and they joined hands, both raising their wands as they let the barrier between their minds fall.  Joined, heart, mind, and soul, they cast the spell, “ _Duo universus_!”  The familiar sight of magic lit up the room.  From Severus came a silvery orb of power.  From Barty, a slightly smudged copper sphere.  The magic met at their joined hands and exploded into a golden shower around them before snapping inward with a blinding flash.

 

By the time Harry and Henry could see again, Severus and Barty were gone.  In their place, similar to Lylas, was one new person.  He had shoulder length black hair with lighter brown streaks throughout.  His eyes were similarly dual-toned, with a darker outer circle and a brown middle around the pupil.  In facial appearance, he had Barty’s sharp cheekbones, Severus’ chin, and a mix of every other feature each man had.

 

“What should we call you?” Harry asked.

 

The man shrugged, then paused to think for a moment.  “Just call us Snape, or Crouch.  Or even Professor, though I wouldn’t shout that across the battlefield.  It might cause some confusion,” he said drily.

 

“Right,” Harry said with a grin.  The grandfather clock in the foyer of the old house struck midnight, and they heard the students all over the school celebrating as the New Year began.

 

“Happy New Year, Professor,” Henry said warmly.

 

“Happy New Year,” he returned.

 

-o-0-o-

 

The Professor was able to use either of Snape or Crouch’s wands when dueling, so they didn’t have to go to Ollivander after all.  In fact, the Professor developed a rather wicked dueling technique that involved wielding one wand in each hand.

 

Every spare moment of the next few weeks was spent teaching Snape and Crouch the rest of the symbiotic spells.  They learned them much more quickly than the twins had, and to better effect.  Harry and Henry chalked that up to experience.

 

Finally, the time came when they had done everything they could and it was time to confront the Dark Lord once and for all.  They decided on the public square of Diagon Alley, just below the steps to Gringotts Bank, as the meeting place.

 

“How will we lure him in?” Hermione asked, wringing her hands.

 

“It’ll be easy,” Harry assured her.  “Henry and I will send him a letter, telling him the date and time that we will be there.  We’ll say that we want to meet with him to discuss terms of us joining him.  He won’t say no.”

 

The letter was written, the date set for 5 February at 12 noon.

 

On the morning of the battle, Harry and Henry approached Professor Snape alone.

 

“We have a request,” Harry told him.

 

Snape was sitting in his rooms, alone, reading a book and trying to think about anything but the fight that was coming.  “I think I know,” he told them softly.

 

Henry nodded.  “I’m still a horcrux.  The last horcrux.  Harry and I will be there, as Lylas.  We want you to use _pax pacis caedo_ on us just before you face the Dark Lord.”

 

Snape drew in a slow, deep breath.  He studied them for a long moment, then nodded almost imperceptibly.

 

“Thank you, Professor,” Harry said with feeling.

 

“I would do the same in your shoes,” Snape answered.

 

At noon exactly, Harry and Henry stood at the base of the steps leading into Gringotts.  The rest of the Brigade was hiding in various positions around the square, waiting for Voldemort to make his appearance.  They didn’t have to wait long.

 

-o-0-o-

 

When Voldemort received the letter from the Potter twins, he knew immediately that it was a trap.  That mattered little at the prospect of getting his horcrux under his thumb again.  After regaining the piece of his soul from the cup, he had been able to hold the symbiotic spell for a little bit longer with Bellatrix.  He planned to take back the piece from Henry Potter on that day and then keep the locket and the ring in their hiding places to maintain his immortality.

 

He had prepared his followers for the upcoming battle with special instructions.  No one was to hurt the Potters under pain of death.  Anyone else who interfered was fair game.  Any witnesses were to be spared.  He would kill the Potters publicly and remove the last shred of hope from the Wizarding world.

 

He combined with Bellatrix for the fight, and tried something he had been suspecting would work for some time.  He summoned four of the lesser Death Eaters to him privately, and used _duo universus_ to combine with each of them as well.  With the magic of five people coursing through him in addition to his own, he was invincible!  Those brats wouldn’t know what hit them.

 

He apparated directly into the square in Diagon Alley, his followers popping in behind him one after another.  The twins appeared to be alone, but he was not fool enough to believe that to be true.

 

“Well, well,” he mused, fingering his thin white wand as he paced slowly back and forth across the middle of the square.  “Two ickle Potters _ripe_ for the plucking.”

 

A movement at the doors of the bank caught his attention, and he hissed like the snake he was at the sight of Severus and Crouch approaching behind the Potters with their hands joined.

 

“Ssseverusss!” he snarled.  “What is the meaning of this!?”

 

The answer shocked him.

 

“ _Duo universus!_ ” was the spell spoken by his former lover and the Crouch boy.  It took seconds for their magic to surge forward and coalesce into their new form, so well matched were they.  In moments, a different man stood before Voldemort on those steps.  A perfectly executed symbiotic pairing, something the Dark Lord had been unsuccessful doing so far.

 

He snarled and raised his wand at them.

 

“ _Duo universus!_ ” This time it was the Potter twins.  Though he had known they were capable, having heard it from his own Death Eaters before the end of the last school year, it was still shocking to realize that there were now two symbiotic wizards standing before him.

 

“You can’t win, Voldemort,” the Potter brat told him.  “Do you want to know why?”

 

Voldemort moved his wand, a spell ready to form on his lips.  Their next words stilled him.

 

“It’s because we destroyed your horcruxes.  All of them.  You absorbed the diary, the diadem, and the cup.  We destroyed the locket and the ring.  All that’s left is us.  And now we’re going to take that away from you as well.”

 

With horror, Voldemort watched as the form of Severus and Crouch raised his wand and cast the last of the symbiotic spells at the boy.  “ _Pax pacis caedo_!”

 

Screams were heard from other points around the square, letting him know that there were others hidden there, waiting to fight his Death Eaters.  Voldemort ignored everything but the spell flying towards the Potter boy.  His horcruxes, gone!?  He couldn’t let the boy die!  He threw a desperate shield towards Potter, but the symbiotic spell passed right through it like smoke.

 

Potter took the spell with a smile on his face, and his form seemed to fall in slow motion to the ground.

 

“NO!” Voldemort screamed, flinging an _avada kedavra_ at Severus and Crouch.  The final battle began with a bang.

 

-o-0-o-

 

It was extraordinarily bright around Harry and Henry as they walked.  They had arrived at this place with their hands joined, and they remained with them clutched together as they entered the large misty space ahead of them.

 

As they parted the mist, the place where they had found themselves started to become clear.

 

“Is this…King’s Cross?” Harry whispered.

 

Henry chuckled.  “So it would seem.  Do you think we’re meant to catch a train to whatever the afterlife looks like?”

 

Harry just squeezed his hand.  “I’m just glad we’re together.”

 

“So are we.”  The voice floated out of the mist in the distance, and the twins turned to look at who had spoken.  The first thing they could make out was red hair, and then the radiant form of their mother approached them with her arms open in invitation.

 

“Mum,” they whispered.  It seemed to them that they must have run to her, but at the same time it felt like one second they were standing still and the next they were in her arms. 

 

“My boys,” she said warmly.

 

Another pair of arms wrapped around them and the twins looked up to see James had enveloped all three of them in his warm embrace as well.

 

“Is this Heaven?” Henry asked.

 

“No,” Lily laughed.  “This is a gateway to many other places.  Now that you are here, we can finally say hello.”  She pulled away a little and cupped one of their cheeks in each of her hands.  “I’m so proud of you, Harry, Henry.  You’ve grown up so well.”

 

“Though I do wish you’d pull more pranks,” James said with mock chiding in his voice.  Lily smacked him on the arm, and he pretended to be pained even while laughing.

 

Lily returned her attention to the twins, and took their hands.  She led them to a bench in the middle of the station that they could have sworn wasn’t there before.  “I suppose you must realize you’re here for a reason,” she told them gently.  James seemed content to let his wife do the talking, sitting on the other side of the twins and simply wrapping an arm around both of their shoulders.

 

“Is it because of the soul bond?” Harry asked, voice trembling.  “We can’t go to Heaven because we’re so unnatural?”

 

“No!” Lily exclaimed, cupping Harry’s cheek in her hand again.  “No, you are _not_ unnatural.  That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.  You seem to have gotten some of the events mixed up.”

 

The twins looked at her with confusion, and she looked at James entreatingly. 

 

Their father sighed and spoke, “When Voldemort attacked when you were children, he accidentally turned Henry into a horcrux.  But the soul bond between you two was already there.  It didn’t come about simply because of the spell he cast.  If anything, the soul bond is what kept you both alive and caused the spell to rebound onto the Dark Lord.”

 

“Then…did you soul bind us, mum?” Harry asked their mother with confusion.

 

“No, Harry,” she told him gently.  “You were born that way.  In another life, you two were probably not siblings at all.  Fate is a tricky thing.  Being soul bound is for eternity.  Every time you choose to be reborn, you run the risk of being reborn as enemies, or siblings, or as two people who will never meet.  There is no guarantee that you will meet and fall in love in every life.  That’s the risk you take to live again.  Just look at poor Severus and Barty.  It took them twice as long as it should have to find one another, and they were right under each other’s noses!”

 

“You mean, we were meant to be like this?” Henry asked incredulously.  “Twins, soul bound and in love!?”

 

“Fate’s a bitch, huh?” James laughed.

 

Lily smacked him again, making the twins chuckle.

 

“The reason I’m telling you this is because you have a choice again,” Lily told them gently.  “You can come with us now, and live here in peace for a time.  Or you can catch a train and take your chances with fate.”

 

Harry and Henry looked at one another, considering.  “We didn’t really get a chance to enjoy life this time around,” Harry admitted.  “I think we should go back out there.”

 

“I understand,” Lily told them, though there were tears in her eyes.  “James and I will be waiting when you’re ready to come home.”

 

Their parents stood then, and pointed to a train that had appeared in the station behind them.  “That’s your ride.  Be safe, my sons.”

 

They waved to Lily and James, who faded away from existence, then turned to the train behind them.  Joining hands, they took one step that seemed like ten, and entered the bright white car of the train.

 

-o-0-o-

 

“ _Pax pacis caedo!_ ” Severus and Barty cast together as they faced the disarmed Dark Lord.  Voldemort watched the spell coming for him in terror, raising his hands as though to ward it off.  It struck with anticlimactic finality, and his form slumped to the ground, empty of life.  Just another empty corpse for the burial mound.  Around him were splayed the bodies of Bellatrix and four other unknown Death Eaters.  The last experiment, defeated.

 

The fighting around the square stopped.  The Brigade had lost several members, mostly Aurors.  The children were all safe, as were Remus and Sirius.  Severus had seen Amelia cut down late in the fighting, and Horace had been gravely injured and portkeyed back to the Academy.

 

The cheers started outside the square at first, and before long all of the remaining Death Eaters had surrendered their wands in defeat as the public itself swarmed the area to finish the battle.

 

Severus and Barty cast _duo abscido_ and slumped to the ground in exhaustion.  It was over.

 

Behind them, they could hear the sobs from Hermione, Ron, and Draco as they approached the bodies of the Potter twins.  Lylas had separated when struck with the spell, much as the Dark Lord had.  Severus felt a flash of guilt for the boys’ deaths before he pushed it aside.  It had been their wish, and it had been necessary.

 

Hermione’s sudden scream made him turn, wand raised, as quick as a flash.  Barty was less than a second behind him.

 

There on the steps of Gringotts, the Potter twins were slowly sitting up and blinking owlishly at the people arrayed around them.

 

“Who died?” Harry joked.

 

Hermione smothered him in a tearful embrace, and boy collapsed back to the ground with an ‘oomph’. 

 

Severus lowered his wand and, inexplicably, started to laugh.

 

“Sev?” Barty asked.

 

Severus waved his hand at his lover.  “Damned Potter luck.  They couldn’t just _die_ , could they?”

 

Barty smiled and took his hand.  “Can you blame them?”

 

Severus looked up into Barty’s eyes and smiled back at him.  “No.  I can’t.”

 

-o-0-o-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: That’s it. It’s over. T_T There will be an epilogue posted tomorrow, and a heartfelt author’s note for anyone who made it this far with me. Thanks for reading, and please review!


	39. Epilogue

**Epilogue—**

Harry and Henry ushered James, Lily, and Albus through the barrier onto Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.  Their two older children, James and Lily, made a dash into the crowded platform to find their friends.  The quieter Albus stayed with his parents as it was his first year and he didn’t know anyone yet anyway.

 

Well, no one but his cousins.  Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron and Uncle Draco had Rose and Hugo and Scorpius.  And Uncle Remy and Uncle Siri would be bringing Teddy and Regulus.  Professor Snape and Professor Crouch had their twin daughters, Eileen and Lucy, but they were in James’ year.

 

Scorpius was the only other first year this term that he knew.  And James had been teasing Albus dreadfully all summer about Hogwarts and what the Sorting was like.  He was almost set not to go to school at all and convince his dads to homeschool him instead.

 

They approached the scarlet engine and the emerald green cars behind, and Albus froze at the sight of all those students he would have to face.

 

Harry paused as the hand he had joined with Albus stopped moving.  Turning, he studied the petrified face of his son and smiled.  He knelt down to Albus’ level and gently straightened his robes.  “Don’t worry, Albus.  Everyone is nervous in their first year.  But I promise that you’ll make fast friends on the train.  By the time you get to Hogwarts, the Sorting will seem like a piece of cake with your friends beside you.”

 

Albus nibbled his lip.  “Is the sorting difficult?”  Harry gave him an incredulous look.  “It’s only, James has been saying we have to wrestle trolls and everything.”

 

Harry shook his head and chuckled.  “No trolls for your first year, I promise.  It’s not difficult at all.  You don’t even have to do anything, but you’ll still find the right place at Hogwarts.  No worries.”

 

“Does it matter what house I get into?” Albus asked.  “I don’t want to disappoint you.”

 

“All of the houses of Hogwarts are great.  They will be your family while you are there.  No matter where you end up, I’ll be proud of you.  Why don’t you go find Scorpius.  I’m sure he’s just as worried as you are.”

 

Albus rolled his eyes.  “Scorpius doesn’t worry about anything!”

 

“Don’t be so sure,” Harry whispered, nodding over his son’s shoulder.  Albus turned to look and saw a rather tearful looking Scorpius being hugged by his mother and fathers as they tried to reassure him just as Harry was doing for him.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Go on, then.  He’ll be a nightmare if he thinks anyone saw him being hugged by his parents,” Harry teased.

 

Albus ran off, and Henry joined hands with Harry as they watched their children mingle with their friends and find their places on the train.

 

“I know I doubted you when you suggested using a surrogate to have kids,” Henry said softly, “but it was definitely worth it.”

 

“I know, right?” Harry grinned.

 

Harry tilted back his head and looked up at the blue, blue sky above the platform.  Steam from the scarlet engine hung in the air and he imagined for a moment that he could see his mother’s red hair and his father’s smile in the mist.

 

“ _Can’t wait for you to meet them, Mum, Dad,_ ” he whispered in his mind.  Henry’s hand squeezed his as he caught the thought. 

 

The engine whistled and the students still on the platform made a dash for the train as it started to move out of the station.  Harry and Henry stood alongside their friends and waved as their futures rolled away down the tracks.

 

It was good to be alive.

 

-o-0-o-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Here it is. My last author’s note. There are so many people who stuck with me on this story, and I can’t begin to thank any of you enough for all of your support. In the four years it took me to write this story, each and every review helped me keep going and prevented me from giving up on finishing. For all of its faults and plot-holes, I really loved working on this fanfiction, and I’m really proud of everything I accomplished. From a simple idea that bloomed during a long drive across Virginia, that spark has grown into this story which is finally, finally finished. 
> 
> I will hopefully someday come back to this story and clean it up a bit, but for now I’m going to let it rest.
> 
> I’d like to give special thanks to my beta, Batsutousai. We went through a lot together from the beginning of this story to the end. I don’t think I could have done it without you.


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